


Exposure

by gunophilia



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Suicide, timepowers!Warren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 171,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunophilia/pseuds/gunophilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max is missing, Warren has powers, and Nathan is in some deep shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faster than a Bullet

_October 7_

Nathan stared at the clock on the wall, its ticking bouncing inside his skull. The gun that rested hidden on his side felt heavier than it was. He reread the note left underneath his door until he could practically see the words behind his eyelids. _What were you thinking_ , he berated himself for the umpteenth time, _stupid, stupid, stupid._

Drugging Chloe seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn't think so far ahead to consider how it could backfire so tremendously. She’d caught him by surprise, sobering up from her drugged state and attacking him. She ran out of the room before he could comprehend what happened. He glanced at the clock again. 3:56, in just four minutes he'd have to go to the bathroom and "deal" with her. 

He didn't plan on actually using the gun-- he wasn't that crazy --he just wanted to scare her into silence. Threaten her to stay away from him and his family. It wasn't a foolproof plan but it was all he had. He didn't have the nerve to go to his mentor yet. He hoped he wouldn’t have to. His fingers twitched from nervousness. 

When bell rang he was the first to leave the room. The teacher wasn't done talking, but she was smart enough not to say anything to a Prescott. Nathan scratched at his arms through his jacket, glaring at anyone who looked at him. Most shied away. _That's right, he was a Prescott. He can do this, he can do anything he wants, he's a motherfucking Prescott._

Before he knew it, he was standing outside the girls' bathroom. He looked around to make sure no one was around to see him. When he was sure it was clear, he took a deep breath. _Don't fuck this up._ With that in mind, he opened the door and stepped inside.

He cast a quick glance around the bathroom. The lighting was terrible and it was just as gross as the boys' bathroom, but it was empty. Chloe wasn't there yet. The reality of what he was doing hit him again and he took his time to calm himself down. 

"It's cool, Nathan... Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three..."

He couldn’t keep his fingers from twitching as he paced around the bathroom, breathing in an offensive fruity odor that couldn’t entirely mask the choking smell of piss and shit. He attempted to occupy his hands by rubbing his hair, his neck, his wrists, but couldn’t quite manage it. He settled for resting them on the sink in front of the bathroom mirror.

He avoided looking at his reflection and focused his gaze on the basin. _Deep breaths, Nathan._ "Don't be scared. You own this school. If I wanted, I could blow it up. You're the Boss." 

At that moment he heard the door creak open and saw a flash of blue in the corner of his eye. Fuck. "So what do you want?" He asked. 

"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say." Nathan could see her through the mirror as she checked through each individual stall. He could feel that rage, that monster that lurked in the back of his head start to surface. _Just don't look at her, Nathan. Focus on the sink. Don't look at her._ "Now, let's talk bidness--"

"I got nothing for you."

"Wrong. You got hella cash." Stupid greedy bitch.

"That's my family, not me." 

She didn’t buy it. "Oh boo-hoo, poor little rich kid." He heard her footsteps as she came closer. "I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here..." She slammed her hands on the sink he was in. Nathan could feel himself losing his carefully rehearsed composure. He needed her to shut the fuck up _now._ "I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now--"

He kept avoiding eye contact, if she kept pushing him like this he was going to lose it.  
"Leave them out of this, bitch." 

"I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself--" She shoved him. 

That did it. Like fucking hell was he going to let this whore push him around and blackmail him. He pulled the gun from his jacket. "You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!" Her eyes widened as her face transformed from cocky to terrified. That's right, that's fucking right. The fear in her expression fueled him. She's finally starting to realize how dangerous he really is. 

He trapped her between his body and the wall and pushed the gun into her abdomen. "Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!" She had one hand on his wrist, trying to pull the gun off her. 

Nathan slammed the wall with his hand. "Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!" He jabbed the gun deeper in her stomach.

Chloe's voice trembled. "You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs--"

"Nobody would ever even miss your ‘punk ass’ would they?" 

"Get that gun away from--" The sound of shattering glass and the earsplitting siren of a fire alarm cut her off.

The shrill noise brought Nathan back. Chloe took advantage of his distraction and kneed him in the crotch. Nathan gasped and she shoved him to the floor. "Don't EVER touch me again, freak!" He saw her leave, his vision blurred through his squinted eyes. Nathan curled up on the floor, hands clasping the area where she kicked him. Fucking piece of shit bitch. 

He felt something stick to his cheek and snarled in disgust. Just his fucking luck. He ripped whatever stuck to him from his face and realized it was a torn photograph. He found the other half near his shoe and picked it up. He shoved both halves in his jacket’s pocket. He didn't have much time, the alarm is going to bring out the students and faculty and if he's seen inside the building it's going to raise suspicion. Nathan grabbed the gun and hid it inside his jacket. 

"Another shitty day," he grumbled to himself and left the girls' bathroom. 

ooo

Back at the dormitories Nathan sat on his bed and wondered what went wrong. Sighing, he pulled the gun out from his jacket when the two halves of the photograph spill out. That's right, he'd forgotten about these. Why were they on the bathroom floor? He put both halves together and they form a pretty artistic selfie. It's a girl standing with her back to the camera, facing a wall full of pictures. He recognizes her, Max Caulfield. He's heard Victoria complain about her too many times for him to not to know who she was. She's one of Jefferson's favorites, apparently, something that drives Victoria mad. Nathan, however, feels relieved. He wants Victoria as far away from Jefferson as possible and if that means he sets his sights on some other girl, so be it.

Still, why was the photograph on the bathroom floor? He looks at the gun sitting next to his thigh. She wasn't in the bathroom, was she? Nathan didn't look around so he couldn't be sure. If she was there, wouldn't she have said something? He went over what happened in his head. Chloe walked in, started yelling, he pulled the gun, there was a sound of glass shattering and--

_The sound of glass shattering._

"Oh fuck." The fire alarm was pulled inside the bathroom. Max fucking Caulfield was in the bathroom when he pulled a gun on Chloe. Nathan’s insides went cold. If Max witnessed him waving a gun around after Chloe’s attempt at blackmail he had to make sure she'll keep her mouth shut. Assuming she hasn’t told anyone already. Nathan didn’t know what he’d do if she did. He needed to find her, fast.

After some consideration, he decided to leave the gun behind. The last thing he needed was having someone search him because she blabbed. He hid it behind his couch, next to the burner phone. He took the phone and pocketed it; he might need it later, depending how things go with Max. 

He left the dormitories but didn't know where to start looking. He shoots Victoria a text asking if she's seen Max. 

**[Victoria, Today 4:47 PM]**

_not since jefferson's class. UGH did you know she interrupted me while I was talking with him?? she acts like she fuckin owns him, i am NOT gonna be in a good mood if i see her._

**[Victoria, Today 4:47 PM]**

_why do you want to know?_

**[You, Today 4:48 PM]**

_I'll tell u l8r let me know when u see her. Where r u?_

**[Victoria, Today 4:48 PM]**

_front of girl's dormitory w/ taylor and courtney_

**[You, Today 4:48 PM]**

_Omw._

He'll think of an excuse when he sees her, he reasons. 

He makes his way over to the girls' dormitories and finds Victoria lounging on the front steps, Taylor and Courtney at her side. 

"Hey, Vic." 

"Hi Nate, are you still looking for Max Cowfield?"

"Yeah, do you know if she's inside?"

Victoria looked at her manicured nails. "Can't be, I've been sitting here for a while and I haven't seen her."

Great. Plan B then. "Do you know where her room is?" 

Victoria raised a perfect eyebrow. "Seriously Nathan? Are you going to tell me why you're looking for her?" 

He was going to give her the excuse he’d planned when Courtney cut him off. "Don't tell me you _like_ Max Bitchfield. I thought you were better than that."

He sucked in an angry breath and was about to go off when Victoria answered for him, "That's because he is better than that. Nobody in the right mind would ever fall for that hipster trash, least of all Nathan. So why don't you go talk shit somewhere else?”

The shock was evident on her face. Courtney’s eyes were wide, flicking between Victoria and Taylor. Taylor was pointedly looking somewhere else and Victoria pretended Courtney was no longer there. Brutal. She opened up her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. She gave Nathan a pleading look.

"You heard her. Beat it." 

Her cheeks turned red and she left Victoria's side, shamefully keeping her head down. Victoria directed her gaze back at him. "Max's room is the one across from mine. Room 219. Her slate is blank, like her brain." Taylor giggled nervously at her joke, afraid she'll be next on Victoria's shit list.

"Thanks Vic. If you see her, don't let her come in 'til I'm out. Owe ya one." He climbed up the steps to the building.

"You still haven't told me what she's done, you know!"

"I know!" He called behind his shoulder as the doors closed. 

Inside the dormitories, it was easy to find Max's room. He passed a slate that said "Will BANG 4 Jesus!" which was obviously Kate's room. Next to that was Victoria's room, the slate saying, "Be the change you want to be. -Ghandi". Nathan rolled his eyes at it. He loved Victoria but she could be such a poser sometimes. Across from that was Max's room. Blank slate, just like Victoria said. 

Nathan tried the doorknob and was pleased to learn that it was unlocked. Inside was a hipster's wet dream. Paper lanterns hung up in the ceiling gave the room a warm atmosphere. It was messy but comfortably so, like he felt Max knew where everything was at all times. Her walls were covered with posters, photographs, bulletins… All arranged in purposeful disarray. To his right he found the wall of photographs that was shown in the ripped selfie and the artist in him couldn't help but look at her pictures. 

She had a colorful, warm style. Most of her subjects were happy and mundane. The complete opposite of his style. She had a good eye for colors and composition though and he could see why Jefferson regarded her so highly. 

He looked around for any clues as to where she may be. Or maybe something to use against her to ensure her silence. Her computer was logged on so he started there. She had two tabs open: Camera Porn, a website for vintage analog cameras. Hipster. And an email from Warren Graham. Something about repaying her for helping him in a class. The way the email was written he assumed he was her boyfriend. He knew of Warren, his room was right across from Nathan's. He could pay him a visit, he probably knew where she was.

As he was getting up he felt something stick to his hand. It was a message from Dana, saying that she borrowed Max's drive. He didn't know Dana was friends with Max. He could ask her about it too. 

As he was leaving Max's room he heard a door slam down the corridor. "You can't get out now, Dana! So tell me the truth, or rot in there!" Juliet was standing outside of Dana's room, phone in her ear, Nathan could hear Dana's muffled voice behind the door. Oh hell yeah a cat fight.

He strode up to them. "Rrrawr, bring out the claws! I love watching chicks fight." 

Juliet scoffed and gave him a glare. If looks could kill. "What are you doing here, Nathan?"

"None of your business. What's going on with Dana?"

"'None of your business.'" She parroted him.

"Fine, do what you want, but I need to talk to her." 

"Like hell I'm letting her out of that room." 

"Why not?" He asked again.

"A little birdie named Victoria let me know that Dana is a lying backstabber that goes around sexting her best friend's boyfriend!" She raised her voice so that Dana could hear her beyond the door.

Nathan almost laughed. Victoria was the one sexting Zachary, not Dana. But he wasn't about to betray Victoria like that. "Shouldn't you be taking this up with Zachary, then?" 

"He won't answer the phone. Either way, I'm not letting this skank out until she admits it."

Dana's muffled cry came behind the door, "I didn't do it, I swear! But I bet Victoria did!"

Nathan dismissed her. "Victoria has better things to do than sext that dumb jock. Speaking of which, he's right outside. You could talk to him face to face."

Juliet snorted derisively. "Yeah right, as if I'd believe that."

"I'm not lying. I saw him on the way here, he was playing football with Logan. Go talk to him and leave Dana alone." 

She looked like she was going to argue with him again but thought better of it. "Fine. Whatever. You win, Nathan." She unlocked the door to Dana's room and scowled at her. "You better hope I don't see you again, bitch." With that, Juliet stormed off. Nathan did not envy Zachary.

He turned towards Dana who was giving him the evil eye. Her arms were crossed and her body was leaning on the door frame. "I didn't sext Zachary."

Nathan let himself in her room. "Didn't say you did."

"You didn't deny it either. You KNOW it was Victoria."

"I'm not in full possession of the facts yet, missy, so I can't say that either."

She gave an exasperating sigh. "Ugh, you're insufferable. Why are you here, Nathan?"

He showed Dana the sticky note. "I found this in Max's room. Do you know where she is?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Why were you in Max's room?"

"I'm looking for her, obviously."

"Why?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. This again. "None of your business."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "If it's none of my business I don't see why I have to tell you where she is."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Why couldn't he get a straight answer out of anybody? 

"Look, I need to ask her a question. It's not a big deal, will you help me or not?"

It seemed like she gave up. "I haven't seen her today. I borrowed a flash drive from her last night but she hasn't said anything about it. It's not even hers, it's Warren's."

"That her boyfriend?"

She chuckled. Nathan saw some of the tension lift from her shoulders. "He wishes. They're friends but it's obvious he's got a major crush on her. Max is oblivious as hell."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Last I saw him, he was at the parking lot. That was a while ago so he probably left. Still, he's your best bet for finding Max."

Nathan nodded. To the parking lot it is. "Thanks, Dana."

"Sure, Nathan."  


ooo

He finds Warren in the parking lot, just like Dana said. Nathan has seen him a few times around campus and he lives right across from him, but he's never paid any mind to him until now. He was leaning on a really shitty car, staring at his phone. Nathan strode up to him.

"You're Warren right? Max's little bitch?"

Warren tenses up immediately and gives him a suspicious if otherwise frightened look. "What?"

"I'm looking for Caulfield. Where is she?"

He frowns. "Why are you looking for Max?"

Nathan was getting really sick of everyone asking that same goddamn question. He got even closer, trying to intimidate him. "Just answer the question, bitch."

Warren stepped back until the back of his legs hit his car. "Look man, I don't know where she is but even if I did there's no way I'd tell you." Yeah fucking right. 

"You're full of shit, Graham. Covering for her isn't going to do you any good. You best tell me where she is. Now." 

"I don’t know what you want with Max, but whatever it is, it can't be any good. I'm not telling you anything." He tried to push Nathan away. 

Nathan shoved him back. "I don't know who you think you are, but you clearly don't know who you're messing with."

"I've been texting Max all day and she hasn't replied. If you did something to her..."

"You'll what?"

Warren seemed to have gathered up some misplaced courage because he fixed Nathan with a determined glare, "Stay away from Max."

They stood toe to toe with each other, glaring at the other waiting to see who will cave first."You're telling me what to do? You have no idea who I am or what I can do. Don't even try to threaten me."

"I know you're dangerous. You talk big, but that’s all you are. You’re a coward.”

White hot anger flared up inside of Nathan. “I’ll show YOU a coward!” Nathan raised his fist. 

“What the hell’s going on here?” David Madsen’s voice rang from behind him. Nathan could hear his footsteps and the jangling of his keys as he jogged up to meet them. Great. Fucking perfect. Nathan ignored him.

“You better watch your back from now on, Graham.” With that, Nathan pivoted on his heel and left. Pushing past Madsen and ignoring whatever the hell he was barking on about. He was going to have to find Max some other way.

ooo

He was halfway to his dormitory when he felt something vibrate in his back pocket. Fuck. Fuck shit fuck. That wasn’t his personal phone. He looked around but there were too many people for him to take the call. The more the phone vibrated, the more stressed and anxious he felt. Nathan did a half jog across the campus, finding somewhere he could be alone. He found a picnic bench near the football field which was blessedly empty this time of the year.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and stared at the ‘unknown’ caller ID for a few moments. Should he tell him about Chloe? About Max?

Nathan took a few moments to steel himself and answered.

“Are you high?” Was the first thing that came from it. Nathan would’ve laughed if it wasn’t so plausible.

“No,” he answered curtly.

“We need to talk about Kate.”

Kate Marsh. His latest fuckup. Wait, no, Nathan corrected himself. Chloe was his latest fuckup, Kate was just one of many. “What about her?” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. 

“Miss Marsh is a very delicate situation. So far your impromptu plan has worked and none of the other students have questioned her strange behavior at the party. However, if someone realizes that all may not be as it seems or, god forbid, Kate decides to go to the police, people are going to probing.”

“So what do you want me to do about it? It’s not my fault someone decided to record her slutting it out with all of Blackwell.”

“She needs to be silenced.” 

His tone chilled Nathan to the core. “How would we do that?”

“For now, just keep doing what you’re doing and I will try to dissuade her from coming forward.” 

“Sure.” Nathan nervously drummed his fingers against the table, wishing the conversation to be over.

“Oh and Nathan? That was some quick thinking on your part. Despite your carelessness at the party you’ve shown competence and resourcefulness at mending the situation. Perhaps you have potential as my pupil yet.”

A warm, proud feeling swelled up in Nathan’s chest. The same feeling that drew him to this psychopath in the first place. He pushed it away. “Thanks.”

A click on the other line signified the end of the conversation. Nathan cradled the phone between his hands. His “business” phone, his mentor had called it. Nothing more than a black rectangle that held way too many secrets.

Kate Marsh was a mistake. The instructions were easy: drug her, grab her, and go. He didn’t expect Victoria to record the whole thing and he didn’t expect Kate to remember at all. He had no idea what to do when Victoria posted her video on the Vortex Club page so he did what he was best at. He tore Kate down. He slandered her, called her the whore of Blackwell and told everyone that would listen. She was a drunk slut, he’d say. A religious hypocrite. It was all her fault, she drank too much, she was asking for attention. And everybody went with it.

He didn’t mention she was drugged. Abused. Taken advantage of. Jefferson was furious when he saw the video. Nathan had to repeatedly reassure him that he was handling it and it took for him to see his plan in action to relax. Even then he was tense. All it took was for one person to notice something was wrong and it would all come crashing down around his ears.

Nathan was fiddling with this phone when he felt something cold bite at the back of his neck. He felt it again, at his hand and ears. He rubbed at them, small droplets of water taking place of whatever had landed on him. He lifted his head at the cloudy sky, blinking as a small snowflake gently kissed his cheek. 

 

He missed Florida.


	2. Self-Righteous Suicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets real dark, real fast.

_October 8_

Warren was woken up by the sound he hates the most: his alarm. Without opening his eyes, he fumbled for it, knocking over nearly everything in his end table. After a few fruitless seconds of trying, he opened one bleary eye. The stupid glowing numbers read 8:00. He shut the alarm off resentfully and buried his head back in the pillow. 

After a few minutes of refusing to get up--his clock read 8:11 now--he decided to check his phone. Not waiting for his eyes to adjust, he squinted at the bright screen. No new messages. He sighed defeatedly. He’d waited for Max all day, hoping to ask her to the drive in. He sent her a ton of messages and she hadn’t responded to a single one. Maybe it was his phone? Warren reread the messages he sent. Couldn’t be, they were all marked “Delivered”. Maybe her phone?

He remembered the confrontation he had with Nathan Prescott yesterday. That was scary. He just strode up and starting questioning him about Max. Warren was sure he had something to do with Max not answering him. He looked really pissed. He didn’t know what he wanted with Max but he had a bad feeling about it. What had Max gotten into?

It was the thought of Max being in trouble that got Warren out of bed. He grabbed some clean clothes and a towel, but hesitated in front of the doorknob. Nathan’s room was right across from his and though he rarely saw him in the dorms, he did _not_ want to run into him today. Opening the door slowly, he peeked outside. The dorms were abuzz with guys waking up and getting ready for the day. No sign of Nathan. Warren stepped outside.

He was still wary of the other boys and tried not to attract too much attention on his way to the showers. Inside the bathroom the smell of Axe and sweat nearly overwhelmed him. The Vortex Club jocks were huddled together next to the sink, looking at something on a tiny screen.

“Check this part out!” Logan said.

Wet, slobbering sounds emanated from the video. Warren didn’t have to guess to know what they were watching. 

“Sick, dude! I wish I’d gotten a turn but Juliet would’ve killed me.”

“Pfft! The way things ended between you and her, you should have gone for it when you had the chance.”

Zachary laughed. “You don’t think we could trick Kate into going to the next party do you?”

Warren felt sick. No wonder Kate was in such a bad mood recently. He tried to step past them unnoticed but Logan chose that moment to look up from the phone.

“Hey Gayram!” Warren flinched at the nickname, “Why don’t you come over to the next party? Maybe you could get laid by Blackwell’s very own slut.”

He avoided looking at the jock. “I don’t take advantage of girls,” he mumbled.

They seemed to take offense. Logan and Zachary walked around him, stopping at either side of him. This was bad. “Taking advantage? Nobody’s taking advantage of anyone around here.” Zachary shoved the video under his nose. “Look at her, she practically flung herself at Logan.”

“She looked like she tripped.”

Logan scowled at him. “Huh? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What--”

“Are you saying I couldn’t get a girl unless she was roofied?”

“Roofied? I didn’t say--”

“You’ve crossed the line, Gayram. Grab him.”

Before Warren could escape, Logan and Zachary seized his arms making him drop his things on the floor. “W-w-what are you doing?!” He panicked and tried to free himself from their grip but it was useless. The two jocks threw him in the shower stall, clothes and all, and turned the temperature up to scalding. Warren screamed as the blistering water hit his skin and hastily turned the knob off. Logan and Zachary had a large guffaw, supporting themselves on each other so that they didn't fall over from laughing. 

“That’s not cool!” Warren sputtered.

Logan made a very fake attempt to sound serious. “You’re right, that wasn’t cool: that was hot!” He said and burst into laughter again. Zachary said ‘good one’ and high fived him as they left the bathroom. 

Warren didn’t feel like showering anymore.

At least his towels and change of clothes were still dry. He dried himself off gently--his skin kinda hurt--and got dressed. Back at his dorm, he sent Max another message.

 **[You, Today 8:24 AM]**

_Hey I waited for you yesterday. Everthing ok? Nathan was looking for you._

No reply. Worry gnawing at him, he decided to check up on her personally.

ooo

It was a short walk from the boys’ dormitory to the girls’. Girls were pouring in and out of the building, but no sign of Max. He tried to look through her window, but the sun’s glare got in the way and he couldn’t see anything. He waited by the main door. 

After only a few minutes his anxiety nearly got unbearable, he needed to ask somebody if they could find her. He spotted Kate Marsh leaving the building. Man, she looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin was pale and her hair was a mess. Her nose was blotchy, as if she had been blowing it too many times. She probably has been. 

“Hey, Kate.”

“Hi Warren,” her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. Poor Kate, she sounded so… broken. 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

“Not really. I don’t want to talk about it.” Figures. Warren and Kate were never that close. They hung out only in the presence of mutual friends, he doesn’t remember ever having a one on one conversation with her prior to this. 

“Oh, okay. Um,” wow this is awkward, “say, do you know if Max is inside?”

She lightly shook her head. “I haven’t seen her. I need to tell her to return my book.”

“Okay.” So much for that. “I’ll let her know if I see her.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, Warren.” She started walking away and Warren wanted to reach out to her, to let her know that not everyone is a selfish asshole. 

“Oh and uh, hey Kate?” She turned around. “If you ever need anything, I’m here for you, okay?”

Her tight-lipped smile became even more strained. “Sure. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He wished there was more he could do.

He’ll talk to Alyssa or Stella about it later tonight. They’re her friends, they’d probably be able to get through to her. 

“Hey, Warren.” A familiar voice called out behind him. He hadn’t even noticed Brooke coming up to him.

“Hi Brooke, what’s up?”

“Did you see that bizarre snowfall yesterday? 

Oh right! With everything that’s been going on he completely forgot about the snow. He almost didn’t see it, he was preoccupied inside the science lab. It was pure luck that he happened to glance outside the window. By the time he’d ran outside, it stopped. “Yeah, it was really weird. It was like 80 degrees yesterday, it shouldn’t be possible.”

“Not even meteorologists could explain it, I bet you could though.”

He felt his face heat up at the compliment. Warren rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Haha, nah. I’m flattered, but you’re giving me way too much credit.”

“You’re smarter than anyone else around here. If anyone could figure it out, it would be you.”

Warren thought about it for a bit. Maybe he could figure it out. "Well, I mean, the only way it could work is if the atmosphere around the clouds was 25 degrees, at most. But even then, the snow should have melted by the time it would reach us. None of this makes sense."

Brooke had that glint in her eye that only appeared whenever they talked science. She tapped at her chin with her fingers while she talked. "The snow flurries only melted when they came in direct contact with the ground. Nonetheless, they shouldn't have been able to make it that far. At this temperature, they should have melted at around 9,000 feet. This goes against everything science has taught us. What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I haven't gotten a lot of time to think about it. I've had other things on my mind."

“What’s got your gears turning?”

Warren started picking at his cuticles. Stella once pointed out to him that he did it whenever he was anxious. Realizing this, he forced himself to stop. “I haven’t seen Max in a while. I’ve been texting her since yesterday but she hasn’t replied.”

Brooke’s shoulders sagged a little. Probably disappointed that their meteorology discussion came to a close. “Oh. I haven’t seen her either. Why are you looking for her?”

“I’m worried. Nathan Prescott is looking for her too and I just got a bad feeling about all this.”

“Ugh, Nathan. I hate that scrub and his shallow followers.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty scary. He got all up in my face yesterday asking for Max. I thought he was gonna attack me.”

“If he hits you, he’ll have another thing coming, trust me.”

That made Warren grin. He was lucky he had such loyal friends. “Thanks, Brooke. So hey,” he cleared his throat. There _had been_ something else that’d been bothering him, maybe Brooke could help. “I need to ask you a question. You know the drive-in is having a ‘Planet of the Apes’ marathon this weekend, right?”

She beamed. “Yeah, I love ‘Planet of the Apes’. What about it?”

“I was thinking about asking Max to go with me, but I’m a bit nervous. What if she says no?”

Brooke’s expression drooped for a second. She picked it up almost immediately and fixed him with a smile way too big to be genuine. Warren didn’t know what that meant. “If she says no then perhaps she’s not the kind of person you thought she was. I mean, who in the right mind would say no to a 70’s black and white film marathon?”

“Right?”

“‘Planet of the Apes’ is such a great series. I’m a huge fan! Did you know that in ‘Escape’ when the helicopter is lifting off from the beach during the opening titles it’s the same footage of the landing but played backwards?”

Warren snapped his fingers. “I _knew_ it looked familiar, that’s really cool!”

“Right? Anyone would have to be dense to not want to ‘Go Ape’ with you.” Brooke punched him in the arm affectionately.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Anyway, I have to get to class early today,” Brooke said as she readjusted the strap on her backpack, “I’ll see you at the lab.”

“Yeah, later Brooke.” Warren gave her a small wave as she left.

ooo

English was his least favorite class. Warren could write scientific and chemical formulas like they’re a walk in the park, but poetry? God no. He could solve the most complex physics problems but heaven forbid he actually makes an accurate analysis of whatever 18th century novel the teacher threw at them this week.

He’d considered asking Max if she could tutor him--she’s taking AP English after all--but he was so embarrased by his bad writing and inability to focus long enough to write more than two sentences of an essay at a time that he never built the courage to ask. Warren was hunched over his desk, leg bouncing up and down obnoxiously, eyes not quite seeing the blank paper sitting in front of him. He was supposed to write a haiku, free topic, but he couldn't think of anything. 

“Two minutes, everyone! You have two minutes to finish!”

Warren chewed on his lower lip. If he didn’t turn this in, his grade would go down by a letter and he was paranoid he would lose his scholarship if anything lower than a 4.0. _Just write something!_

“Time is up! Everyone pass your papers forward!”

Warren didn’t even want to look at the monstrosity he’d created. At least he got the number of syllables right. That’s what’s important. 

“Okay so everyone turned theirs in? Good! So now we’re going to do this neat exercise where you are going to read someone else’s haiku, then the person who wrote that haiku will read the one that they were assigned. When I call your name, please stand up and read the haiku you’ve been assigned.” 

An immense feeling of dread settled in Warren’s stomach as the teacher shuffled the papers and passed them around. He read the haiku he was assigned with. It was far, far better than the one he wrote. It made him feel worse.

“Mr. Rivers, why don’t you start?” 

Okay, this wasn't so bad. There were only a few minutes left in class, maybe he'd be lucky and the bell would ring before anyone got to his poem.

The minutes ticked by and nobody had read his haiku yet. Warren breathed a sigh of relief. There were only a few seconds left on the clock and he thanked whatever invisible entity listened to his prayers. 

“We have time for one more.”

“This next one is by Warren Graham.”

God is dead. 

Covering his face in his hands, Warren braced himself for the trainwreck.

 _“Cockroaches are gross_  
_they give me very bad feelings_  
_like brown flying poops.”_

The laughter didn’t start right away. It began with a snigger here, a snort there, but soon the entire classroom was drowned in guffaws and shrieks. The teacher tried to stop the mocking students to no avail. Warren barely heard the bell ring over the raucous sound. He shot up from his desk, his face red as a beet, and tried to leave the room as quickly as he could. The teacher stopped him before he could get his foot through the door. “Not so fast, Warren, I’d like to have a word with you. Everyone else can leave.”

Warren couldn’t remember the last time he’s been so embarrassed. Some students were gracious enough to cover their mouths to keep themselves from snorting again, but others were openly jeering at him as they left the classroom. Once they were alone, the teacher closed the door.

“I’m sorry about that,” she started, walking over to her desk and waving a hand to the empty chair in front of her, “Take a seat.”

Warren did as he was told. He shifted uneasily in the uncomfortable armchair and said nothing. 

She didn’t sit down, opting to lean on her desk instead. Her entire posture exuded disapproval. “I’ve looked at your record and I can tell you’re one of the best students at Blackwell. You know I base my grading system on participation and attendance rather than on skill.”

It’s the only reason he’s been able to maintain his 4.0 so far, was what she was saying. “Yes, I know.”

She gave a weary sigh. “I’m not sure I am able to maintain that stance any more, Mr. Graham. Your writing is, quite frankly, atrocious and below Blackwell’s considerably high standards.”

Warren nearly flinched at her brusqueness. He abstractedly started picking at his cuticles. “So… what are you saying?”

“Your haiku had 18 syllables, not 17; I’m afraid that will lower your grade. I understand that you have an academic scholarship and anything lower than an ‘A’ could be catastrophic for you.

“However, I am willing to give you an opportunity. Extra credit. It will help maintain your grade for the rest of the semester. Are you interested?”

Warren sat up straight in his chair. “Yeah, totally. I’m interested.”

“You will write a fictional story, whatever topic you wish. I will grade it on creativity, grammar, structure, and completion. You can turn it in in segments once a month and it will count as a quiz grade. Do we have a deal?” 

A creative story. Free topic. He could do this, keep his grades up, keep his scholarship. All he had to do was come up with a story. Maybe he could ask his friends for help. Kate maybe. He heard from Alyssa that she liked writing children’s books and maybe it will get her mind off the video. “Sure. We have a deal.”

“Good. That will be all, Mr. Graham,” she dismissed him.

He left the classroom feeling hopeful. The incident with the haiku was now at the back of his mind as he made his way over to the science lab. Not having to worry about English class lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. Still, maybe he _should_ ask Max for help. It couldn’t hurt.

If he could find her. Remembering that he still had to talk to her about yesterday, he hesitated in front of the lab doors. Max’s next class was at the next room over, she was bound to be there. He made his way over to Jefferson’s classroom and looked around. Max was not there.

Instead he found Nathan Prescott and Victoria Chase, lounging about at Max’s desk like they had nothing better to do. After yesterday, seeing Nathan sit on Max’s desk gave him a bad feeling. He was probably still looking for her. 

Not wanting to be seen by him he tried to make a quiet getaway but life had to remind him that this was, in fact, a shitty day. 

“Well look who’s here, Nathan.” Victoria crooned, her body half turning to face him, “It’s Max’s little bitch the science-geek.”

Nathan was sitting on Max’s desk, one foot on her chair, the other bent towards his body and he leaned back on his hands to get a good look of Warren. “You should be careful Victoria, he might act all innocent but he’s a class-A liar. Find your girlfriend yet, Graham?”

Warren opened his mouth to say something but Victoria beat him to it, “Oh haven’t you heard? He’s still trying to claw his way out of the friendzone.” 

“It’s not like that, Max is my friend.” Warren retorted.

“All of Blackwell knows Max is your ‘friend’,” the condescending tone in which Victoria said the word ‘friend’ made Warren bristle.

Nathan scoffed. “And that shitty car yesterday. Did you think that heap of trash would impress her? I’ve seen newer cars at a museum.”

Warren floundered for a moment. He could feel the tips of his ears getting hot. They looked at him expectantly, but in a way Warren knew they expected him to not say anything.

“That’s what I thought. Why don’t you run along and play somewhere else?”

“Yeah, and tell Max she can’t hide forever,” Nathan said, then turned around, apparently done with the conversation. 

Nathan’s thinly veiled threat angered and worried Warren. He had to find Max before Nathan. Not wanting to deal with any more _Mean Girls_ bullshit, he left the classroom in a huff. Kate was talking to Mr. Jefferson at the doorway, but Warren was too upset to eavesdrop. He brushed past them and made his way over to the science lab.

He took his usual seat and saw the words “Lab Day” on the chalkboard. He groaned. With everything that's been going on, he completely forgot about it. 

Still, he was nothing if not a scientist. He could figure it out. 

The point was to have an exothermic reaction without having it combust. Class hadn’t started yet and the only people in the room were Ms. Grant and Brooke. Brooke stood at the other side of the room, fixedly staring at something on her phone. Not wanting to disturb her, Warren took a seat at his usual table. 

He brought out all of the essentials-- his notes, a bunsen burner, flasks, tongs, cylinder, beakers, all the good stuff--and set it all at the table before bringing in the metals, halogens, and the solvent they’re experimenting on. 

“Don’t forget your gloves, coat, and mask. You know how I feel when you tinker without them.”

“Oh but Ms. Grant, it’s not science if it doesn’t have a little danger!” Warren whined. 

“Science will still be science regardless of whether you’re protected or not, Warren. You know what happened last time.”

“It was just a small chemical burn, no biggie.”

“Then I’m sure it won’t be a biggie to put on some proper gloves this time to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Ms. Grant tossed a box of disposable gloves at him. Warren caught them and sighed defeatedly. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll wear the gloves.”

She raised her eyebrow at him.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “And the mask and the coat…”

“Good on you, Mr. Graham. You are a step closer to being a scientist yet.”

He laughed appreciatively as he put the protective gear on. Warren always felt kind of silly wearing it. The coat was too big on him and had fading stains of multiple experiments and the mask was so scratched up from use that he could barely see out of it. Also it hurt the bridge of his nose. But the teacher was right. He’d spilt some hydrochloric acid on his wrist during last week’s experiment and while nothing really happened, it burned like a bitch.

Now with the uncomfortable gear properly on and fastened, he was ready to start experimenting. 

ooo

After a few minutes of torn graph papers filled with crossed out chemical equations, Warren was just about ready to give up. Alkali metals _seemed_ to be the most reasonable choice given their reactivity with air and water but it doesn’t solve the combusting issue. 

“Come on big brain, think…” He muttered to himself, tapping the pencil irately against the notebook.

“Having trouble there, genius?” A nasally voice called out from his right. 

Warren lifted his head up and grinned. “Brooke of the brook! Just the person I wanted to see!”

Brooke eyed the clutter of balled up papers and used beakers, and Warren gave her a sheepish smile. “How come? It seems like you’re doing just fine on your own. I haven’t seen you get on the verge of a breakdown so quickly. Must be a new record.”

“Aw come on, don’t be like that. I could use your expertise.”

“I’m afraid my expertise is limited. I’ve never been very big on chemistry. I’ll take an automaton over a beaker any day.” 

“It’s not so bad. Look, I’ve narrowed it down to two metals, sodium or potassium. It’s up to you to decide, Dr. Brooke.”

“So, fifty-fifty? It doesn’t seem like a very sound way of doing an experiment.”

“You’ll never know unless you choose. It’s simple quantum mechanics.”

She thought about it for a moment, looking up at the ceiling and tapping her chin in a typical Brooke fashion. “I choose the periodic element of... K.” 

“Potassium it is!” 

He poured the carefully measured grams of potassium onto the solvent. It popped and fizzled and blew white smoke into the air. But alas, it’s not what the experiment called for. He gave a disappointed sigh.

“Sorry, Warren. I’m not very talented at chemistry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. You’re more of a Tesla than a Heisenberg, I understand.” 

“Must be sodium then.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t too sure, but his mind was drawing up blanks. He wrote “Na” on the sheet of paper he was supposed to turn in, along with the chemical equation that lead up to it. “Thanks, anyway.” 

“No problem. Anyway, I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Good luck on your experiment.” She brushed past the students that were pouring into the room, now that class started. He absently listened to the teacher explain the experiment and its purpose.

Warren removed the uncomfortable mask, goggles, and gloves. Who was he kidding? He’ll never be a real scientist. He could pretend all he wanted, but in the end he was nothing more than a--

The door suddenly flew open and Zachary hung off the doorframe. “Yo! Some crazy shit is going down in the girls’ dorm! Check it!" He announced. 

Ms. Grant, didn't seem offended at the interruption, only worried. “Zachary! What is going on?” 

Curiosity won over the students and the walls echoed the sounds of chairs creaking as the teenagers hastily got up from their desks and left the room. Warren left with them, running into Alyssa on the way. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

“I’m just as confused as you are,” she replied.

“Do you think it’s something bad?”

They pushed past the throng of students crowding on the front doors. It was raining heavily, whatever was going on had to be pretty intense if it got everyone out in the pouring rain. “I hope not,” the cold made her voice tremble. 

As they got closer to the dormitory they could hear fragments of what was going on. Gasps of “Oh no”, “what’s she doing”, “do you think she would really…”, “I need to get this on video!” Warren’s heart dropped to his stomach when they made their way around the bend. Oh fuck.

“Kate, no!” Alyssa grabbed his arm in anguish. 

Kate Marsh was standing on the rooftop’s edge, looking down at the entire Blackwell student body. 

And the students were looking back at her, some with gaped mouths and teary eyes, others through the screens of their smartphones. Bastards. Didn’t they fucking learn?

“Warren, we need to get closer!” Alyssa started pulling him towards the building. They pushed and shoved their way through the horde, and got themselves to the front doors.

“Kate! Please don’t do this, please! We love you so much, please don’t jump!” 

This was so surreal. Warren felt somehow… detached to reality. Like this was a dream. He could _feel_ Alyssa clinging on to him, desperately sobbing into his chest; he could _feel_ the biting rain soaking him to the bone; he could _feel_ the unforgiving wind that froze him to the spot… But it was as if his emotions were shut off. He couldn’t process what was happening. It couldn’t be real.

A loud cry ripped him from his reverie. Screams and wails and gasps as the worst thing that could have happened, happened.

Kate jumped.

 _No, no, no, no, NO!_

_“NO!”_ Warren reached out to Kate, trying to… do _something!_

And something did happen.

He watched as Kate stopped in mid-air, inches before touching the ground. Then she moved, Warren’s eyes following her flailing body return to her spot at the rooftop. He was aghast. What just happened? Did… he do that? Warren retracted his hand. Kate had jumped… Warren had reached out to her and then--

Before Warren could finish that thought, Kate jumped again.

He wasn’t fast enough.

_CRACK!_

Alyssa let out a loud wail and collapsed in his arms. Kate’s body lay before them, her joints broken and her neck at an odd angle. Blood flowing from her mouth, staining the ground red. Warren was going to be sick.

Then it happened again.

The ground was clean, Alyssa was staring up, Kate was on the roof then--

_CRACK!_

Again.

_CRACK!_

No way, no way. 

_CRACK!_

This couldn’t be happening. _CRACK!_ What the fuck was going on?! Why was he being forced to watch Kate die over and over and over again?!

_CRACK!_

_CRACK!_

_**CRACK!** _

Warren clutched his head, shaking. _Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, “MAKE IT STOP!”_

He was hit with a splitting headache. He doubled over, gasping in pain. It felt like his mind was being torn in two. Hot liquid dripped from his nose, trailing to his open mouth. Blood. Unforgiving rain pelted at him painfully. The wind became savage. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end; Warren could feel the electricity crackling in the air. He looked up. He was no longer at Blackwell.

What the hell was going on? Where was he? He checked his surroundings. Wait, he’s been here before. This was the trail that led up to Arcadia Bay’s lighthouse. Not knowing what else to do, he followed the worn path up the hill. 

In the distance, Warren thought he could see a lone doe unaffected by the storm. She calmly ambled up the steps, pausing to make sure that he was following her. The lighthouse’s beam blinded Warren and he slipped on a few steps, but he quickly caught himself. He was fighting against the wind, holding his arms over his face as he made his way to the top of the hill.

A flash of lightning, followed by its earsplitting roar caught him off guard. It hit a tree in front of him. The bark split and a large branch was severed from the tree, heading straight for Warren. He threw out his arm in front of him protectively, but nothing happened. The branch hovered in the air, floated over to the tree and placed itself back on the wood. The lightning bolt retracted from the tree, the wind blew the opposite direction, and the rain flew towards the sky. 

Then just as quickly as it happened the first time, the bolt hit the tree, the branch fell, but this time Warren was ready. He dodged the incoming limb and heard it fall on the ground behind him. He didn’t have time to think about the implications of what he’d done and he continued the trek uphill. 

At the top was the source of the destruction. “Oh no,” he breathed. There was a _massive_ tornado on a collision course with Arcadia Bay. It rapidly crossed over the gulf and threatened to suck everything in its path. “Oh no, nononono!” Warren pulled at his hair. He could hear his own heartbeat over the powerful gusts. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.” He chanted under his breath. 

Warren watched in horror as a fishing ship flung by the tornado crashed into the lighthouse. A large piece fractured from the structure and the lighthouse crumbled over Warren. _“Shit!”_ He bent over and tried to shield his head from the collapse when...

“Please wake up, please!” 

He started. The first thing he saw was Alyssa’s bloodshot eyes, warm tears dripping down her face and landing in Warren’s cheeks. She was hunched over him, his head laying on her lap. Her body was trembling uncontrollably. Her voice shook as she spoke.

“Oh Warren, thank God. I thought I lost you too.”

“What happened?” He tried to sit up but hissed as a sharp ache rendered him immobile. 

“Kate… Kate just _jumped_ and you-- you fainted and I didn’t know what to do. Oh God… Kate’s dead, Warren. She’s dead and I can’t handle this!” She broke down in sobs.

Kate was dead? Like a wave, everything came back to him at once. The rooftop, Kate jumping over and over, that god-awful sound…

Fighting against the pain and Alyssa’s protests, he managed to push himself onto his elbows to find Kate laying at his feet. Her lifeless glassy eyes stared right past him, her jaw was dislocated and oozed blood, a small pool of it gathering underneath his shoes. Her entire body was broken and discolored, the ring around her eyes were sunken and her cheeks were hollow. She looked like she had been dead long before she jumped. Maybe she had been.

It was too much for him. He doubled over and heaved on the ground next to Alyssa. The acid from his stomach burned his throat as there was nothing else to expel. 

“--and put your phones down! I said, everybody get back to your dorms now! The police are on their way, we need everybody to leave the area immediately!” 

“Kate is outside our dorm, are we supposed to step over her or what?”

“Get cheeky with me again and I’ll have you expelled, _now move!”_

He felt Alyssa tugging at his arm. She sniffed audibly. “Come on, Warren. We have to go.” 

Not quite trusting his wobbly legs to support him, he leaned onto Alyssa as they walked. Principal Wells and David Madsen were trying to disperse the crowd with varying degrees of success. 

“How long was I out?” He asked Alyssa.

“I don’t know. A few seconds. Maybe a minute. It felt like an eternity though. Are you okay?”

“Not really.” He wanted to ask her the same, but he already knew the answer to that. 

“You’re bleeding. We should go to the nurse.” 

He should. He felt lightheaded and his headache hadn’t gone away. Who knows if he got a concussion when he hit the ground? “No thanks. I don’t feel like going to the nurse right now. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He gave her a fake smile, but she didn’t seem convinced.

“I’m serious. You could have gotten hurt.”

Warren extracted himself from her grip and squeezed her in the shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Alyssa. I promise.” He repeated. 

She wiped away some tears with her wrist. “Okay, Warren. If you say so. But promise me you’ll go if you start feeling bad.”

He didn’t want to lie to her, but he gave her what he hoped was a more reassuring smile than the first one. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m gonna go find Stella. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Take care, Alyssa.”

She gave him a small wave as he entered the boys’ dormitory.

Guilt weighed on him like a sandbag on his chest. It took him a great deal of effort to make it to his room. His hand trailed the wall next to him to make sure he stayed grounded. He should have been the one comforting Alyssa. He should be the one making sure Stella is okay. Instead he was dragging his feet back to his room, feeling sorry for himself. The feeling was worse than his headache.

That would have been an accurate statement had someone not slammed the front doors and multiplied his migraine. Nathan Prescott hastily made his way past him to his dorm. Something about his face wasn’t right, Warren noted. There was a tight set to his jaw and he wore a deep frown. His knuckles were near white from how hard he was clenching his fists and he walked in a stiff manner. He was _pissed._

Before Warren could figure out more, Nathan slammed the door to his bedroom as loudly as the front doors making Warren resent him. He opened the door to his room as gingerly as he could and stepped inside.

The warmth of his room contrasted with the coldness of his dripping body. He wrapped a towel around him, clothes and all, and sat on his bed. Kate’s suicide was slowly sinking in. Whenever he tried to close his eyes he could see her sightless eyes staring past him. How could he not have seen the signs? 

That was a lie. He saw the signs, they all did, which made everything worse. And to think he told himself he was going to talk about it _tonight._ If only he had done it sooner. He’d been so concerned with Max that he wasn’t paying attention.

Max.

He still hadn’t heard from her. She wasn’t among the crowd of onlookers staring up as Kate committed her final act. Did she know? Was she okay? 

He pulled his phone out with shaking hands, scrolling through all of the unread messages he’d sent her this week. He had to know she was okay, just one message. One message to let him know she was safe.

**[You, Today 11:37 AM]**

_kate is dead. she killed herself, please call me, tell me if your okay.._

No reply. Warren’s eyes began to water.

**[You, Today 11:38 AM]**

_max, please answer. plesse. i need to knwo youre ok max pleaes please please anwser…_

Nothing. He released a trembling sigh. _Maybe she’s okay_ , he tried to reassure himself, _maybe she left to visit her parents and didn’t say anything, that’s all._ It was a feeble attempt at self-comfort, but it did the trick. _Her phone is lost, someone stole it, it’s out of battery, there’s no signal…_

ooo

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep at all until a loud knock at his door woke him up with a start. The room was bathed in tinges of orange and heavy shadows extended their reach across the walls. How long was he out? The clock on his side read 4:57 PM.

The knocking increased for a moment, then stopped completely. He could hear murmurs outside his door. He groaned at his first attempt at getting up. His body was completely sore. “Coming!” He gritted out between his teeth. 

Opening the door he found Stella and Alyssa standing there, all red eyes and puffy noses. Stella gasped when she saw him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” He internally recoiled at the raspiness of his voice. 

“You’re covered in dirt and blood, Warren,” Alyssa chastised him, “You promised me you could take care of yourself.”

“I fell asleep,” he said sheepishly.

“Anyway, we’re doing a memorial for Kate. We got this board and we’re collecting messages from friends. We wanted to know if you were feeling well enough to write something.” Stella pulled out a large cardboard that was leaning on the wall. It had a few messages already, but it looked almost empty.

“Sure, I’d love to sign. Actually I,” Warren looked at Stella and Alyssa’s miserable faces. They were barely holding up as it is. Kate was their best friend. Whatever guilt he was feeling, they must be feeling it tenfold, “I want to help setting up her memorial.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

“I’ll be fine. Kate was my friend too. It sucks what happened to her but maybe we can do at least this one thing in her memory.”

Stella teared up but wiped them away before they made their way down her cheeks. “Yeah, let’s do this. For Kate.”

ooo

It was nearing midnight by the time they were done setting up. Kate’s body had already been stuffed in a bag and picked up by an ambulance. They collected signatures, mementoes, pictures, and donations from other students. The girls were also doing a shrine to her outside of her room and signing condolences and apologies in her slate. 

Blackwell was in mourning. The student body was gathered around the memorial, each person holding a candle and staring somberly at the ground as they listened to the small service led by Stella. Logan and Zachary were there, Warren noted with disgust. So was Victoria and her posse, but Nathan was nowhere to be found. 

With everything that had been going on, that fact made him uneasy. Nathan’s strange behavior, Max’s disappearance, and Kate’s suicide. They couldn’t be connected, could they?

And the… the vision, hallucination, whatever. Kate dying over and over again. Nobody had mentioned it. Was he the only one that saw it? Was that just his mind’s attempt at coping? Was he going crazy? 

An eclipse had happened while he was asleep, apparently. It didn’t make sense, there was no eclipse scheduled for today. He would have known if there was. But Brooke wouldn’t lie to him, not at a time like this, so it had to be true. 

Stella’s prayer had finished--not that Warren had been paying much attention, he thought guiltily--and the makeshift congregation had dispersed. Feeling his mind suddenly empty, he made his way back to his dorm. 

“Did you hear about what happened at the Principal’s office?”

“No, what?”

Logan and Hayden’s voices carried over to Warren. Hayden held a candle for Kate, Logan didn’t. Warren couldn’t help but eavesdrop. “Nathan almost got busted. Cops were there and everything. Wells had to pin the blame on someone and David Madsen got suspended.”

“That lucky son of a bitch. Guess money does put you above the law. Anyone with two eyes would know he’s the one who roofied Kate.”

What? _Nathan_ roofied Kate?

He wanted to hear more but they were too far away now. If he followed, it would be obvious he was stalking them and he didn’t want to risk it. Warren knew the reason for Kate’s depression was because of the video but what if something happened _after_ the video? He didn’t want to think about it, but he owed Kate this.

First thing he did back at his dorm was boot up his computer and enter _katesvid.com_ on the url. The video was still there. Warren didn’t know if he should feel relieved or angry. He clicked play.

This isn’t his first time watching the video (or his second, sorry Kate.), he already knew what happened but this time he was watching out for Nathan. Already a few seconds into the video, Warren was stunned. Nathan never left Kate’s side during the duration of the video. He spent most of it trying to coax Kate out of the party. To anyone watching this video it seemed like he was trying to help her. He brought her water, talked to her, and gently guided her through the throngs of people. But knowing that he roofied Kate… suddenly made his actions much darker. The video ended with Nathan taking Kate’s shoulders and guiding her out of the frame. He didn’t want to think of what came next. 

The police saw this and he just got out scot free? Kate didn’t deserve that. Warren shut his laptop off and crawled into bed, more exhausted than he’d ever been. He didn’t know how, but he was going to get justice for Kate. And Max… If Nathan was involved, this could be worse than he thought. His phone didn’t have much battery, but he decided to send her a quick message regardless. He typed it out through his half-lidded eyes, soon falling into a dreamless sleep.

**[You, Today 11:58 PM]**

_good night, Max._


	3. Albatross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and your reviews! The grahamscott is coming, I swear!

_October 9_

The door creaked slightly as Nathan pushed it open. It was a few minutes past midnight, but he was still cautious not to alert anyone that he was breaking curfew. Shoes in hand, he tiptoed through the linoleum floors as quietly as he could. Though he was sure that even if caught nobody would say anything--he’s not the first boy to sneak out past curfew after all, nor would he be the last--but he didn’t want _anyone_ to know. Should something happen, he didn’t want any witnesses testifying to his midnight escapades. 

He hated having to think about it that way, but after Kate he didn’t want to take any chances. Nathan nearly pissed himself when he saw the cop standing in Wells’s office. He, David Madsen, and Mark Jefferson were called earlier to discuss the suicide. The only reason he was there was because he was on the video that changed Kate’s life forever.

_Nathan sat with his hands over his crotch, to prevent his obvious nervous tick from showing. He slouched on the plush chair in front of Wells’s desk, David Madsen standing to his right, Jefferson to his left, and the cop behind Wells. A chair sat empty next to him. Jefferson was looking at him critically from the corner of his eye. Son of a bitch._

_“I know this isn’t pleasant for any of us,” Principal Wells began, turning from the window to face them, “but we have to go over what happened before Miss Marsh… before she did what she did.”_

_You mean kill herself? Commit suicide? Kick the bucket? Nathan moved his hands to grip the arms of the chair and tried to keep still. Fidgeting wouldn’t work in his favor. The investigator stood erect in the corner of the room, his arms folded over his chest, sight switching between to what his belief were three suspects._

_Nathan knew him. Officer Berry. He was indebted to the Prescott family. To Sean. He sent him to “keep an eye on Nathan”, which essentially meant two things: keep Nathan’s misdemeanors from becoming public and tell his father everything. So no, Nathan was not fond of the man._

_Yet even with the debt, he was still afraid. A few misdemeanors here and there were one thing, the death of a young girl was on a whole other level. There were some things money can’t protect you from and should Berry decide to turn on the Prescotts… well, Nathan would be screwed._

_“ --in a hall of wisdom and knowledge.” Wells finished whatthefuckever he was prattling about and turned to address David. “Mr. Madsen, as our head of security here, those roof doors should always be locked. That’s just standard operating procedure. They were not. And that is indeed your responsibility.” David looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it._

_Wells turned to Jefferson. “Mr. Jefferson, I know you can’t be expected to know what your students are going through, but Kate has assisted you in class, so you should have known something was amiss.” Jefferson shifted uneasily on his feet; an act, but a good one._

_“Mr. Prescott,” Nathan leaned forward on his seat, “since you are responsible for the Vortex Club parties… And since Miss Marsh did attend your last party, you’ll have to answer some more questions.” Wells sat on the large chair and asked Officer Berry, “You’re the lead investigator on this case. Where do you think we should start?”_

_“Let’s start with the teacher,” the officer said._

_“Alright. Officer Berry will be conducting individual interviews later on but first he’d like to get a general overview on what happened. Mark, I know that Miss Marsh often stayed after school to assist you with class events and for private tutoring. Did you notice anything strange about her? Anything at all?”_

_Jefferson had the grace to look mournful. “Kate… Miss Marsh, had been very withdrawn lately. We had a conversation earlier in the day, she was upset at a video of her that was posted online and she was upset at Miss Caulfield not returning her calls. She was feeling lonely and rejected by everyone in the school, including her friends... I hated seeing the students laugh at her. I assume this video was the cause.”_

_Nathan’s nervousness got the better of him. “She shouldn’t have asked to be on video macking with some dudes.”_

_“I would like to know more about this video,” said the officer, giving Nathan a sharp look._

_“Yes, Mr. Prescott. Why don’t you tell us what happened at the Vortex Club party.” Wells directed his attention to him. Fuck._

_“What, you all saw the video. She was loaded up on god-knows-what and started making moves on guys at the party. That’s it.”_

_“‘God-knows-what’”, David scoffed, “As if we don’t know what goes on at teenager’s parties.”_

_Nathan’s insides went cold. “You’re saying I had something to do with that? That’s slander, I could sue you and this school so fast!” Arrogant. Arrogant was good, better than nervous. His phone buzzed in his front pocket. He ignored it._

_“David, please keep your comments to yourself for the time being. I would like to hear what Mr. Prescott has to say first. You will have your turn to explain the situation. Nathan, you are a prominent figure in the video and was seen talking to her, could you elaborate on what went on in the party?”_

_“I saw her walking around like a zombie and asked if she was okay. She said she wasn’t feeling well so I told her I was going to take her to the ER. She sobered up on the way there.”_

_“And where did you take her after that?”_

_“Back to the dorms, where else?”_

_Nathan saw Jefferson’s jaw clench and his stance change just slightly. Did he fuck up?_

_David stepped in. “And we’re just supposed to trust on your word of mouth? If we had cameras around campus like I’ve asked we wouldn’t be in this mess!”_

_Wells slammed his hands on his desk. “David, that’s enough! You are supposed to be head of security at Blackwell and you couldn’t even keep a simple door locked. How am I supposed to trust you to be capable enough to handle surveillance of the entire campus?”_

_That shut him up. Principal Wells breathed heavily through his nose, trying to regain his composure. He had risen from his chair and fixed David with a smoldering gaze. “I feel like it would be in the best interest of Blackwell and this situation to put you on temporary leave.” David looked like he wanted to get a word in but Wells didn’t let him, “We will continue this conversation later, when the police finish their own investigation.”_

_David sputtered. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is major bullshit!”_

_“Watch your swearing. I am sorry, David, but my decision is final.”_

_“Excuse me,” Jefferson interrupted. “I think Nathan needs a break before we grill him further. A friend and fellow student is dead… He doesn’t need this forum right now.” Oh thank fuck._

_“Yes, I’m kinda devastated right now. I’d like to be with my family.” He lied._

_“Alright, we shall continue this another time. Officer Berry will take over the investigation from here. You are dismissed.”_

Once out the door, Nathan slipped on his loafers. After that, it was just a matter of avoiding the guards around the campus. He sneaked past them and was relieved to find that there were none at the parking lot. With David Madsen suspended, security had gone lax. Nathan made his way over to his red SUV with no trouble at all.

Forgoing the use of a seatbelt, Nathan sped through the empty streets of Arcadia Bay. He’d gotten a text from Jefferson on his burner phone that said to meet him in the Dark Room. Before, midnight texts from his mentor would excite him and swell him up with pride. Recently, he’d found himself dreading his messages, wishing he could throw away the phone and be done with it, knowing that it would make things worse. He tried to keep himself from overthinking as he drove, turning on the radio and listening to whatever contemporary song the DJ chose to blast through his speakers. 

It was at these moments where Nathan felt the most relaxed. Driving dangerously fast through an empty street, his thoughts focused on nothing but the road, knowing that just one wrong swerve and he would die in a bloody, chaotic crash. He always entertained the thought whenever he came to these midnight rides, but never gave in. Maybe one day he would.

He arrived at his destination faster than he would have liked. He turned off his car and sat at the steering wheel for a while, trying to stall. But no, Jefferson would have likely heard his car arriving, so he forced himself to leave the warmth and comfort of the heater and stepped into the chilly night air.

He had been here countless times, and each time felt like he’d never left. His actions were mechanical by now, opening the barn, unlocking the hatch, 542, and into the Dark Room he went. It was routine. 

Jefferson stood there, his black suit a stark contrast against the sterile whiteness of the room, organizing one of the binders. Nathan didn’t have to ask to know which one it was.

“Ah Nathan, you’re here. Good. I was just adding some final touches to Kate’s binder, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Whatever.” Nathan removed his red varsity and threw it on the couch, leaving him with his cardigan and undershirt. He sat on the arm, trying to appear casual and nonchalant so as to not tip off his anxiety. He took out his phone, his actual phone, and saw an unread message from Victoria.

**[Victoria, Yesterday 11:42 PM]**

_thank you, nate._

He smiled at the screen. 

“Nathan.”

His smile died.

“You done?” He looked up at Jefferson, bored.

Jefferson pursed his lips disapprovingly. “Kate was an unfortunate situation. She should have never been pushed to take such a drastic action and we must endeavor to prevent this from happening again in the future--”

“How did you do it?” Nathan interrupted him. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“How did you get her on that roof? Yesterday you called me and said ‘she needed to be silenced’, next thing I know, she’s dead. How did you do it?”

He'd regretted the words that came out of his mouth the moment he saw Jefferson’s face. His eyes got that dangerous glint that put the fear of God in Nathan. Jefferson towered over him and his voice was carefully aloof when he spoke. “I did nothing. The absence of support and understanding can be just as deadly as the jeering and pushing tactic that you were so fond of. _I_ didn’t fuck up and plastered her face on thousands of screens all over the world. _I_ didn’t discredit her every word and pleas for help. _I_ didn’t turn the entire school against her. _I_ didn’t do _anything._ ” 

Each word felt like a stab in Nathan’s gut. He just sat there looking at Jefferson with wide eyes; he couldn’t mask the hurt on his face. Jefferson took a deep sigh. His expression softened.

“But enough of that morbid talk. We need to look at the bright side. The investigation should end on the note that she was nothing more than a depressed teenager. She’s just a number in a growing statistic; her death will be buried with all the others. People will forget about her. Best part is, nobody would watch the video anymore. It’s considered disrespectful.” He set his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “You did good, Nathan.”

Nathan had to swallow down the bile threatening to climb up his throat. A girl was dead and he was getting praised for it? No matter how he looked at it, that was fucked up. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but feel proud at the compliment. It only made him loathe himself more.

“Anyways, that’s not why I called you down here.”

Jefferson moved to the other side of the room where the desk was. Nathan hopped from the couch and followed him. “It’s not?”

“Do you know about Max Caulfield?” 

Nathan’s blood ran cold. He tried not to let his uneasiness show. Why was he asking about Max? Did he know? Or is she next? “I know of her.” 

“Max is one of my photography students, you’ve probably seen her around campus. I’ve had an... interest in her since she first came to Blackwell. She’s special.”

“Right, sure.”

Jefferson leaned on the desk and made gestures with his hands as he spoke. It reminded Nathan of his lessons at Blackwell. “Max Caulfield is the embodiment of teenage innocence and purity. She’s at that prime stage in her life where hope and optimism are at their peak, right before the reality of adulthood weighs her down and wipes out her naiveté.” 

Nathan nodded as if he’d understood. 

“She would be our pièce de résistance. Just being near her, talking to her, looking at her polaroids… it’s inspiring.” He had a faraway look in his eyes so Nathan cleared his throat to bring him back. 

“I thought Kate was your masterpiece.”

“She could have been. Religion, however, is like a hairworm. A hairworm is a parasite that infects their host and overrides their basic instincts. Kate was pure because she was forced to be. Lust and rebellion are part of a teenagers innocence, believe it or not. Young girls drooling over boys, thinking they know more about the world than their parents, these are stages that every teenager go through in their life. Kate was chaste, fearful of the world and of a higher power and while that is considered innocent and pure, it is not genuine.”

Jefferson glowered and shook his head at Nathan’s blank expression. He slammed his hand on his desk, making Nathan flinch.

“Nathan, how can you call yourself my protégé if you can’t even understand the basics of what we’ve been doing? This is exactly why your portraits have been failing. If you don’t _know_ what you’re trying to capture, how can you expect it to work?”

Nathan’s heart clenched at the cutting words. There are few things that affect him worse than knowing he was a failure. “I’m _trying,_ okay? I’m _trying_ to understand, so cut me some slack!”

Jefferson took a deep breath through his nose. His voice was gentle, as if he was trying to talk down an injured animal waiting to snap. “It’s alright Nathan. You’re still a teenager yourself after all. Maybe when you’re my age you’ll get it.” He got up from the desk and began casually pacing the room. “Anyways, that’s _still_ not why I called you here.”

“Why did you then?”

“I think Max is missing. I haven’t seen her since class two days ago. She didn’t come to today’s lecture.”

So she _is_ missing. Right after the scene in the bathroom. Nathan wondered what that meant. “Maybe she skipped.”

“I doubt that. I asked in class and nobody’s seen her. What’s most suspicious is that she wasn’t present with the rest of the student body when Kate killed herself.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he rebutted.

“Kate and Max were friends. Not only wasn’t she seen during her suicide, but she didn’t show up to the wake either. If she had left town on an emergency, as her teacher I would have been notified.”

“So what, you think something’s happened to her? Maybe she skipped town like Rachel.”

“Max is not like Rachel.” Jefferson’s tone sent chills down Nathan’s spine.

Nathan didn’t say anything. Jefferson sighed. “Just keep an eye out. I would hate for something to happen to her before we have a chance to capture her innocence.”

“Oh and one last thing.” He walked over to the desk again and took out a folder. “I saw you today, when you were watching Kate. You’ve seemed to forgotten my number one rule of photography.” 

He laid the folder open, the photographs spilling over the desk. Nathan’s breath caught in his throat. It was Kate. Kate at the roof looking down at everyone with red eyes and clenched teeth. Kate jumping, her arms and legs dragging behind her as she plunged. Kate dead, her body broken and blood spilling from her lips, dead eyes staring unseeingly at the camera. 

“Always take the shot.”

ooo

The drive to Blackwell was less enjoyable. Nathan gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave crescent-shaped scars over the leather. When he pulled over at the parking lot, he didn’t even bother to sneak past security.

Turns out he didn’t have to. Nathan didn’t encounter a single officer on his way to the dormitory, yet hesitated a bit on the porch steps. Maybe he should pay his respects to Kate? It was his fault she was dead, any apologies made now won’t be worth anything. But it's not like he could apologize to anyone else either. Victoria, for example, who unknowingly took the blame for him. She called him while he was at Wells’s office, destroyed. She felt responsible for Kate’s suicide and he tried to comfort her however he could, even though his heart broke after her every sob.

He sighed and made his way over to the altar quickly, before he changed his mind. Kate’s face smiled at him amid the candles and flowers. Nathan gritted his teeth and looked at his shoes as he talked. 

“Hi, Kate.” Oh God. Nathan looked around to make sure he was alone, he don’t think he could live it down if someone caught him talking to a dead girl’s picture. “I just wanted to say I’m… sorry.” 

The words felt cheap coming from him. It was his fault she was dead. 

“I’m sorry I made your life hell and drove you to kill yourself. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It wasn’t supposed to get this far,” now he was just making excuses, he backtracked, “I… shouldn’t have done what I did. If I knew this was gonna happen I would have, I don’t know, done something different. Maybe. Sometimes it seems like everyone I meet gets fucked up. Kris, Rachel, Victoria, even Max… I don’t know what to do. I wish I could stop hurting people, I really do.

“I know I can’t fix this and you can’t hear me so it doesn’t even mean anything but I truly, truly am sorry. I’m so sorry, Kate. I won’t bother asking for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it, but if I could take it all back, I would.” 

But he can’t. A girl is dead because of him. If he hadn’t shown up and fucked everything up she would still be alive. Nathan scratched at his arms. He wished he could be anywhere but here, but he didn’t have the luxury of forgetting about her. He was afraid that he'd be haunted by her bloody, broken corpse for the rest of his life. Ghosts weren’t real, but his mind had a few tricks it liked to play on him. 

There was nothing else left to say, but his apology felt hollow. He took a small cross perched near Kate’s picture and grazed his fingers over the wood. A lone sunflower amid a bouquet of roses caught his eye. He never knew Kate personally--and no two things can sum up a person’s entire being--but they would remind him of her. He wasn’t going to allow himself to forget.

Nathan put the cross in his back pocket and the sunflower in his jacket as he walked back to the dorms. He didn’t snuff out the candles. If the school burned down, so be it.

 

He took his shoes off inside the dorm. Security or no, he didn’t want to wake up any students. Exhausted, he quietly shuffled back to his door, the only sound being the jingling of his keys as he reached for them in his pocket.

He didn’t notice anyone sneaking up behind him.

“Where did you go?”

“Jesus! Whatevathefuck?!” Nathan’s very-manly squeal echoed through the hallway. He clutched at his heart as he turned to face the culprit. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, man!”

“S-sorry! I mean,” the man cleared his throat and lowered the pitch of his voice, “why were you sneaking out of the dorms?”

Nathan squinted at the blurry shape in the darkness. “Graham? What the fuck?"

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“What’s it matter to you? Are you spying on me?”

"I'm not spying on you."

"Then why'd you creep up on me like some fucking lunatic?"

"I, uh, I didn't."

Nathan blinked at him before shaking his head and returning to opening his door. "Whathefuckever. I don't even give a shit anymore, just stay out of my fucking business."

Warren held his arm out, blocking him from inserting his key to the lock. “No, wait.”

“Holy shit, what the fuck do you want?” Nathan said exasperated. 

“Where’s Max?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“Christ, you’re all so goddamn nosy. What does it matter that I’m looking for her?”

“It does matter. I hadn’t heard from her all day then suddenly you’re looking for her.”

“And, what, you think it’s connected somehow?”

Warren looked perplexed. “Isn’t it?” Oh for fuck's sake. 

“No, Sherlock, it’s not.” 

“What about Kate?”

Nathan tensed up. He hoped it was dark enough that Warren didn’t notice. “What _about_ Kate?”

“Did you drug her?”

Now they’re getting to the core of it. Warren was snooping around, looking into Kate’s suicide and Max’s disappearance and thinking they were connected. Nathan didn’t need anyone meddling into his affairs. He needed to shut this down. 

“Why don’t you ask what you really want to ask? I can see it burning you up. Why don’t you ask if I raped her?”

Warren hesitated a bit, clearly thrown off by his behavior. “... Did you?”

“No, I did fucking not. Now that we’re all done with your shitty detective routine, I’d like to get back to my dorm.”

“Wait a second, I’m not--”

One of the doors in the hall flew open. “Oh my God, can you guys just _shut the fuck up?!_ People are TRYING to sleep!” 

Nathan entered his room and slammed the door before Warren could get a word out. 

That was close. Nathan could hear Warren apologizing to whoever they disturbed before going back to his room and shutting the door. 

Alone in his room, Nathan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He gingerly took out the cross and sunflower from his pockets, a bit relieved when he found that they hadn’t been crushed. He found a space in the closet next to his bed and placed them there.

It was a good thing nobody ever goes into his room, he thought. He didn’t think he could explain why he had a shrine to a dead girl in his closet, nor did he want to.

 

Nathan laid in bed for what felt like hours but not even whale songs could get him to sleep. Laying on his side, he turned on the broken lamp next to his bed. He stared at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he do anything right? First Chloe, now Kate, Jefferson’s probably getting sick of him right about now. Why couldn’t he be more like him?

He sat up and took the selfie he found in the bathroom. He had carefully glued it together but there was still a thin line down the middle where the two halves were joined. Under the dim light of his broken lamp, Nathan stared intently at the photograph. 

_Innocence and purity,_ those were words that Jefferson used often to describe his subjects. Max is innocent and pure. Somehow. His eyes scanned over the photograph, trying to get a sense of how he could tell. Max’s hair is short, maybe that gives her a more youthful appearance? In front of her you could see her polaroids. Most of her subjects were animals, that’s innocent, he guessed. She's probably a virgin, that's something. _Come on Nathan, think..._

Nathan released a deep sigh and set the photograph down. He couldn’t do it. He had no idea what Jefferson saw in Max Caulfield, or in any of their other victims. The tortured subject part he understands thoroughly, but he didn't see the appeal in innocence and chastity. If anything, it’s kinda creepy. He could never be like Jefferson. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be.

ooo

Nathan didn’t know when he fell asleep. He woke up an hour before anyone else, as usual. Once awake there was no going back to sleep, so it wasn’t like he had a choice. He rolled over to his end table and opened the small orange container that housed his medicine. He pushed the pills against the roof of his mouth with his tongue until they dissolved. The aftertaste lingered on his tongue. Gross.

Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes he made his way over to the bathroom. It was completely empty and the floor felt cold under his bare feet. Nathan hated the thought of bathing with everyone else; one of the reasons he woke up so early. With everyone still sleeping, nobody would disturb him. Best part was, the hot water was guaranteed.

By the time he left the showers, a few of the dorm’s sleepy inhabitants were rousing. Guys who’d spent the night at a girl’s room were sneaking into the building, girl’s who’d done the same were sneaking out. Nathan winked at them, their faces turning horribly red. 

School was cancelled for the day because of Kate Marsh. They were allowing students to grieve while the faculty dealt with the press. With nothing else to do, Nathan found himself walking to the parking lot. 

Nathan always gravitated to the Two Whales Diner when he found himself depressed or with nothing to do. The rundown touristy diner felt more like home than home did.

Eggs sizzling, the smell of bacon and pancakes, clinking of silverware and the low hum of customers were one of the few things that relaxed him. Truckers and policemen sat hunched over in their seats, nursing their coffee mugs and only lifting their hands to cover their yawns. Nathan passed by them without saying a word, despite knowing most of them. They were regulars, as he was. He took a seat in his usual booth; the couch had holes in it and the table was perpetually sticky, but Nathan found that he didn't mind at all. He pretended to look at the menu, as if he hadn't memorized it already. 

“Hello there Nathan, how are you feelin’?” Two Whale’s most capable waitress and one of the main reasons Nathan came over so often stood over his table, balancing a tray on her left hand, the right one resting at her hip.

He tried to smile. “Hi, Joyce. I’m pretty okay.”

“If you’re so okay, why the long face?”

“It’s nothing, really.” Nathan lied.

“Okay, sure. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I know when something’s wrong.”

Nathan shrugged. “Something happened at school and everyone thinks it’s my fault. I think they’re right.”

“Does this have anything to do with Kate Marsh?

“Yes.”

“I heard what happened to her, God bless her soul, but why would you think it’s your fault?”

“The reason she got depressed was because they recorded her at one of my parties. Her video got leaked and she became the laughing stock of the school. People think since it was my party, that I’m responsible.” That wasn’t the _whole_ truth, but Nathan wasn’t going to alienate one of the few people he cared about by telling her what actually happened.

But she was sharp enough to know that wasn’t the entire story. “Be honest here, did you make fun of Kate Marsh after watching the video?”

Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and turned his gaze to his hands. “Yes.”

Joyce pursed her lips and placed her free hand on the back of Nathan's booth. “Now you listen here. I know what it’s like when you’re caught in a bad crowd. Lord knows my daughter gets into all sorts of trouble because of bad influences. But that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person. Kids do all kinds of terrible things and they’ll never know how it’ll affect someone else ‘til it’s too late. You made a mistake, one you clearly regret. I’ve no doubt that if you could turn back time, you would’ve stopped all this from happening. But you can’t, and there’s no use beating yourself up over it. It’s not your fault, no matter what anyone else thinks. You can’t change what happened, all you have to do is move forward.”

She put her hand on his shoulder and stared at him with mournful eyes that told Nathan that this was about more than Kate Marsh. “You have a good heart, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be sittin’ there listening to an old woman lecture you.”

Nathan tried to suppress a smile. “What old woman? I don’t see an old woman here.”

Joyce lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “Flatterer. Now, are you gonna tell me what you want to order or are we just gonna stand here actin’ like we both don’t know you want belgian waffles with whip cream?”

He shrugged, handing over the menu. “Maybe I wanted to try something different.”

“Did you now?”

“Not really.”

She snatched the menu away playfully. “Uh-huh, that smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble someday. I’ll be right back with your meal. I’d imagine you’d want some _‘coffee’_ to go with that?”

“You know me so well.” 

Joyce winked at him and went back to the kitchens. She was the biggest reason Nathan liked the Two Whales Diner. From day one she had been kind and sympathetic to him, despite him being a Prescott. He appreciated her motherly instincts and he could be honest to her. Well, not completely honest, he thought bitterly. If Joyce knew the extent of the shit that he got into she wouldn’t be so kind to him.

“Here’s your _‘coffee’,_ just how you like it.” She set the hot mug on the table. Nathan inhaled its sweet aroma and took a large gulp. 

“It’s good. Thanks, Joyce.”

“I’ll be back with your food in a few.”

It wasn’t exactly espresso. Nathan and a few of the Vortex Club members went to the Two Whales Diner once for coffee. Joyce noticed how Nathan kept making faces after each sip, so when she came over and asked the group if they wanted refills, she’d refilled his mug with hot chocolate instead. It was just dark enough that nobody in the group suspected he wasn’t drinking coffee, and Nathan always appreciated her for it. 

Thanks to the mixture of the chocolate and the pills he took this morning, Nathan felt calm. He knew it wouldn’t last--Kate’s suicide was still burning in the back of his head--but for now, he was utterly and completely content. Nathan's finger absently grazed at the graffiti etched on the table. 

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Joyce placed his breakfast on the table. Nathan's mouth watered at the smell. 

But before Nathan could get his fork to his mouth, he felt his burner phone vibrate. He fished it out of his back pocket irritably and read the message. 

**[Unknown, Today 7:54 AM]**

_Don't forget to find out what you can about Max._

Ugh. He couldn’t catch a fucking break, could he? Nope, he’s gotta fill in his teacher’s creepy obsession over one of his students. 

Nathan ate his breakfast sullenly, his appetite completely ruined. 

“Something the matter with your food?” Joyce had come back to check up on him.

“Huh? No, it’s fine.” Nathan pushed his food around the plate, staring distractedly at the other customers. That’s when an idea occurred to him. "Hey, maybe you can help me with something."

"Sure thing, what is it?"

"I'm looking for someone, I think she might be missing. Do you know Max Caulfield?"

She froze. The sudden silence made Nathan regret asking and he was going to tell her to forget about it when she said, "Did you say _Max Caulfield?"_

That surprised Nathan. "You know her?" 

Joyce set the tray she was carrying on Nathan’s table. A breach in professional etiquette, but Nathan understood it as her dropping her waitress persona and shifting into something more personal. "She was my daughter’s friend before she moved a few years ago. She was practically a second daughter to me." 

She pulled out a picture from the pocket in her apron. In it, a younger Max Caulfield was smiling with her arm wrapped around a blonde girl’s waist, the latter girl’s arm slung over Max’s shoulder. A man, presumably Joyce’s late husband, was bending down behind them, smiling goofily at the camera. 

Nathan’s eyes widened at this revelation. "Seriously?"

She nodded and tucked the picture away. "I didn't know she was back in Arcadia Bay. You say she's missing?"

"She goes to Blackwell but nobody's seen her since Monday." 

"Blackwell, huh?” She took the tray from his table and balanced it against her hip. “I'll ask around if anyone's seen her. Please let me know if you find her." 

"Sure. Thanks."

ooo

Nathan didn’t know where to start looking. Upon leaving the diner, he noticed Frank’s RV parked outside. He didn’t think the local drug dealer would know anything about Max--he doubted the girl would take as much as cough syrup--but it was a good place to start. He strutted up to the trailer as casually as he could and knocked on the door.

Frank opened, his eyes widening as he saw Nathan. He glanced around before grabbing him by the front of his varsity and pulling him in, slamming the door.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Are you fucking insane?” Frank paced around the small space in his RV.

Nathan sneered as he looked around inside the trailer. Frank’s place was a shithole. It reeked like who knows how many types of weed mixed with the distinctive smell of wet dog. The pile of moldy dishes in the sink was nearly sky high and Nathan had to be careful not to step over filthy clothes and underwear. The words ‘trailer trash’ described Frank perfectly. Nathan leaned on one of the walls trying, and failing, to make himself comfortable. “Nice to see you too.”

Frank stopped pacing and looked at him incredulously. “ _‘Nice to see you?’_ Can’t you see we’re in a public fucking area?”

“Relax, I just wanted to talk, I’m not looking to score anything.” 

Frank shoved his pointer finger in Nathan’s chest. “Then get the fuck out of my trailer, I ain’t looking to have a conversation with you, especially after that shit you pulled the other day.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated groan. “Come on, I _said_ I was sorry.”

“It’s not just me you have to apologize to.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Does it look like I’m joking?”

Nathan looked at Pompidou. Frank’s dog was sitting on the floor a few feet away from him, growling lowly. “Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

“He won’t attack unless I tell him to, I trained him that way.”

Nathan believed him, that dog was better trained than most people. Didn’t change the fact that if he wanted to, he could probably kill him. Nathan strongly believed that he probably killed before. “I’m not apologizing to your mutt.”

“No dice, then.”

“Oh my fucking-- Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Nathan warily approached the dog. Pompidou bared his teeth at him, his body trembling from barely kept self-restraint. Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets and made sure he didn’t look Pompidou in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry I kicked you. Learned my fucking lesson anyways. Won’t happen again.” Pompidou growled louder, but didn’t attack.

The short version of the story was that Nathan and Frank got in an altercation and Pompidou decided to step in when he incorrectly sensed that his master’s life was in danger. Nathan kicked him to defend himself but the mutt didn’t relent and chased him back to his car.

The long version involved Chloe, Jefferson, and drugs, but he didn’t want to think about that just now.

Nathan went back towards Frank. “There, are we good?”

“We can talk, but I’m not getting you high.”

“Fine.”

“So what do you want?”

“Do you know a girl named Max Caulfield?”

Frank scoffed. “You know better than anyone I can’t just give out the names of my clients all willy-nilly.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking if she’s a client, I’m asking if you know her. So do you or do you not?”

“I ain’t ever heard of that name before, so no.” Frank crossed his arms and a flash of blue caught Nathan’s eye. Rachel’s bracelet. Right. Her and Frank had a thing. Nathan felt that twinge of pain that happened whenever he thought about her. 

“Didn’t think so.”

He didn’t realize he was staring, but Frank did. “Is that all or are you here to gawk?”

Nathan reluctantly looked away from the bracelet. “Have you heard from her?”

“What’s it to you?” Frank snapped, but visibly regretted it. “No, I haven’t. She wanted to disappear and she fuckin’ did.” 

After a long pause in which no one said anything, Frank sighed and ran his hand down his face. “I don’t know what your deal with Rachel was, but nobody’s heard from her. She always wanted to get away from Arcadia, she’s probably living it up in Los Angeles by now.”

Nathan wanted to believe that, he really did. If anyone could make it out of Arcadia Bay, it’d be Rachel. “Yeah.”

“This girl, Max, she missing too?”

“Dunno.”

“It’s probably got nothing to do with Rachel. Rachel left, willingly, to follow her dreams of becoming a model. Your girl’s probably fucked off somewhere.”

Nathan bristled. “She’s not ‘my girl’.” 

“Whatever man, your business is your business, I ain’t getting into that.”

A-fucking-men. “Wish more people had that philosophy.”

“No kidding. Now get the fuck out of my trailer.”

ooo

The morning sun cast a strange glow around Blackwell campus and Nathan found himself squinting at everything. He could hardly believe it was October from how hot it was. Nathan scratched at his arms through his jacket, trying to fight the temptation to roll up his sleeves.

He spotted Victoria sitting on a patch of grass under a tree. She was leaning against the bark, puckering her lips for a selfie. Nathan smiled and began to approach her but a voice behind him made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Nathan, can I talk to you for a moment?" Jefferson called out.

Nathan always felt more relaxed when Jefferson contacted him in public. There were people around, but none of them were close enough to hear their conversation. He turned around to face him.

"I want to talk about your 'End of the World Party'." Jefferson started, calm as always.

"What about it?" Nathan asked.

"As you know, I'm going to be announcing the winner of the 'Everyday Heroes' contest there. However, I haven't picked a winner yet. I have everyone's entry--except for Max's--and since the deadline is tonight, I was hoping that you could help me choose a winner."

Nathan's mouth dropped. "Seriously? You mean it?"

Jefferson gave him a gentle smile. "You have a good eye for photography, Nathan. I'm sure you could provide me with some valuable insight and a different point of view. I'd expect nothing less from my star pupil."

Nathan found himself at a loss for words. He cleared his throat. "Yeah that'd be... Totally, yeah, I'll help."

"Glad to hear it. Come to my office after hours and we can get started."

"Sure, no problem."

A feeling warmer than the sun wrapped around his chest, yet his stomach twisted in anxious knots and Nathan wasn't sure if it was from excitement or fear. He decided to hold on to the possibility that it was excitement. He sauntered back to Victoria, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

"You look happy," she teased. 

“Do I? You must be hallucinating.”

“I don’t think even acid can conjure up the image of you skipping like a schoolgirl.”

Nathan stopped, suddenly self-conscious of his walk cycle. “I wasn’t skipping.”

“Sure, you weren’t.” Victoria patted the ground next to her as an invitation for Nathan to sit down. He took it, sitting with his legs stretched out, his body leaning back on his hands.

“Whatever. So what’s up?”

“What were you talking about with Mr. Jefferson?” Victoria asked, curious. 

Nathan hated lying to Victoria, more so than he hated lying to Joyce, but there was no way he was going to tell her about Jefferson. She idolized the man, she would get on her knees for him (both figuratively _and_ literally); if he told her the truth, it would crush her. 

“‘End of the World Party’, the contest, that sort of stuff.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. 

After a pause, Victoria grimaced and covered her face with her hands. “Oh shit. I just remembered I may have fucked up my chances of getting picked for the contest.”

“How?”

“Last night I was with Mark working on my portfolio. I made a move.”

“You didn’t.”

She removed her hands from her face and placed them on her lap. Her face was red. Nathan didn't think he'd see the day Victoria Chase would be _embarrassed._ “I did. I just, I _really_ want to win. I tried everything, I put my hand on his knee, I leaned over seductively, I straight up told him to think of what we could do if we went to San Francisco together.”

Nathan tried not to visibly cringe at the admission. “And?”

“When that didn’t work, I told him that I would tell everyone that he offered to pick me as the winner in exchange for sex.”

His mouth dropped for the second time in ten minutes. “You _threatened_ Mark Jefferson?"

“I know, it was really stupid of me! He said that he’ll ignore it for the sake of my future. Whatever chance I had before, it’s gone. I fucked up, Nate.”

“Yeah, threatening the man who could make or break your career would do that.”

“It’s not even just about Mark. I really want to win, you know? Having my work showcased on an art gallery in San Francisco would give me the boost I need.”

“I know, Vic. But you don’t need to seduce or threaten anyone to win, your work’s really good. You can win on your own.” Nathan gave her a forced smile.

It was an honest sentiment, but Nathan felt like the shit of the earth. He wasn't lying, Victoria was good. He was absolutely sure that she could win, but he wasn't going to let that happen if he had a say in it. Victoria and Jefferson alone in San Francisco was a recipe for disaster, and not for the reasons Victoria might want. 

“I’m just lucky Max hasn’t even entered. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mark ended up choosing one of her selfies as the winner.”

Nathan scoffed. “Please. Her ugly mug would automatically ruin any chance of winning.”

Victoria laughed. “I know right? Someone needs to-- _Agh!”_ Victoria screamed as a water balloon hit her from behind, covering her in water.

“What the fuck? Holy _shit,_ that reeks!” Nathan covered his nose, the smell coming from the liquid was vile. 

“Oh my God! What the hell?! What is this?”

Nathan started gagging and stood up from his spot, walking a few paces away from Victoria. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

 _“Nathan!_ Ew, ew, ew! My cashmere is _ruined!”_

“Who threw that?!” He looked around, yelling at the air. “I swear to God, you’re going to fucking pay!”

Victoria pinched her nose, her voice turning nasal as she spoke. “Yeah, pay for my cashmere. Fuck Nate, this was $300! Ugh, I need a bath.”

“You need any help?”

She waved him off. “No, Nathan. Go plot my revenge or some shit. I’m going back to the dorms.” 

“Take care, Vic.”

Nathan didn’t care who it was, whoever did that was going to regret it. The last thing Victoria needed right now was people picking on her. Both Nathan and Victoria knew that she, as popular as she was, was one of the least liked people in Blackwell. The only person people hated more than her was probably Nathan himself. 

Nathan and Victoria had power, influence, and talent, and they were always hated for it. And as much as they pretended otherwise, they knew it. Nathan could take it, the backstabbing, the name calling, the bad reputation. But Victoria was more fragile than that. She might act like a cold bitch, but she was brittle, and it had only gotten worse after Kate’s suicide.

He watched her go, her back straight as an arrow, her fists clenched to her sides and everyone that saw her knew from just one look to get the fuck out of her way. But Nathan knew that behind her fierce glare she was holding back tears. He wished there was more he could do. Maybe if he stopped being friends with her people wouldn’t be so harsh. But Nathan was too selfish for that. 

He was about to leave when he saw someone doing some kind of half-jog towards him, waving his arm trying to get his attention. 

Oh man not this asshole again. 

Nathan tried to make a quick getaway, but the fucker actually followed him with a, “Yo, Nathan, wait up!” As if they were friends. Nathan groaned and looked up towards the sky, silently begging some benign dignity to intervene and strike him down before he had a chance to talk to the loser.

But God was either absent or an asshole. "Hey, can I talk to you?" Warren said, he sounded winded from jogging. 

"Hell no." 

Warren stepped in front of him, forcing Nathan to stop walking. "I just wanna talk. I know you've been asking around for Max."

"Why'd you think that?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, saw you at the Two Whales this morning. You asked the waitress about it."

Nathan frowned. "I don't remember seeing you there."

"I was at the other side of the diner."

Was he? Normally Nathan would call bullshit, but considering that he didn’t notice Max was at the bathroom the day of his showdown with Chloe he started to consider that maybe he wasn’t as perceptive as he thought he was.

"Yeah, well, whatever. I have no idea where your precious Max is, so--" Nathan stopped in the middle of his sentence as blood started trickling down Warren’s nose. Well that was random. 

Warren didn’t notice. "What?"

"The hell?" 

Frowning deeply, Warren reached up and touched his nostril. His eyes widened when he saw the blood on his fingers. "Oh."

"You're bleeding." Nathan said dumbly, his eyes not leaving the trail of blood.

"Thanks, I noticed." Warren licked where the blood trickled down to his lips and Nathan watched, entranced with the way the red played against his pale skin. _Photo op, photo op, photo op..._ Nathan's fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his camera. 

The spell was broken when Warren wiped the blood with his sleeve. "Uh dude? I know it's gross, but you're kind of staring."

Nathan blinked in surprise. Was he staring? Shit, he was staring. He growled at Warren, trying to salvage his reputation. "No, I fucking wasn't. Who do you think you are?"

"Huh? What does that--"

"Just stay out of my fucking business or you'll regret it, you hear? I told you to watch your back and I meant it. Don't test me." He shoved his way past Warren and continued walking. 

Not knowing where to go or what to do, Nathan decided he’d spend the rest of the day at the Prescott Estate. His parents were never around, so he was free to chill until he had to go meet Jefferson for the contest. 

He was almost to his car when something brown and dead caught his eye. Nathan grabbed his camera and went to take a closer look. It was a sparrow. It was laying on its back with its legs curled in the air. It shat out its guts, apparently, as pink tendrils spilled out of its anus. It was morbid and disgusting and exactly the photo opportunity Nathan had been yearning for. Less creepy than taking a picture of Warren, anyway. 

Nathan laid on his stomach to get a worm’s-eye view. He didn’t care if anyone saw him laying on the pavement. He didn’t care if anyone thought his subject was creepy or weird. As far as he was concerned, the place where Nathan felt most at home wasn’t at the Prescott Estate or at the Two Whales. It was behind the camera lens, face to face with death.

_Always take the shot._


	4. I, Warren

_October 9_

Warren heard the click of the door shutting behind him. Well, that could’ve gone better. Not that he expected a conversation with Nathan at two in the morning would go well, but it left him with more questions than it answered. He avoided Warren’s question and answered one he didn’t ask.

So, he drugged Kate but didn’t rape her? That didn’t make any sense, why drug her in the first place? Just for kicks? And where did they go after the video ended? Warren wished he could have a redo. Asked the right questions, figured out more. 

The room was pitch black but Warren figured he could have made it to his bed. He figured wrong. His feet caught on an old t-shirt he discarded earlier and he stumbled. His hands reached out for the end table in front of him and he ended up knocking down the lamp resting on it. He heard it shatter against his bed frame.

 _“Shit!”_ He hissed as his left hand grazed on some of the glass shards and cut it. Great, just great. Fantastic. What a perfect night. Grumbling to himself, he got up and turned the light switch on. Just as he feared, his galaxy lamp was beyond repair. The cut he had on his hand was superficial, there wasn’t much blood, but it stung like a bastard. He walked over to his lamp, carefully avoiding the shards from his bare feet.

Reaching down to pick it up, he mourned over the loss of his lamp. It was his favorite; the galaxy print on it was faded and the paper was ripped in some places, but it was his. He made it when he was ten and he didn’t want to see it go.

Then, just as his fingers touched the base, he felt a pull in the air. The shards around him rose and floated on their own back to the lamp. The lamp lifted in the air and reconstructed itself, placing itself back on the table just as Warren had left it. Warren jumped a few paces back, startled. Did that just happen? _Oh God, I’m going crazy._ He looked at palm of his hand. The cut was still there. What the hell was going on?

He hesitantly reached over and knocked the lamp on the ground again. It hit against the carpet floor but didn’t shatter this time. Reluctant, he reached out for the lamp again and searched for the pull in the air. It worked, the lamp righted itself at the end table once more. 

“Holy shit,” Warren breathed. 

He knocked over it over again, this time with more force. Pulled at the air with his fingers and the lamp lay fixed again. An excited laugh escaped him. Did he have powers? _Time_ powers? He could turn back time? Holy shit, that was awesome. 

The most hated thing in his room sat a few feet away looking old and gross and oh-so-breakable. He seized his alarm clock with his good hand and chucked it against the wall. It shattered into several pieces and left a mark on the cement. 

“Oh that felt sooo good.” His shoulders sagged and he gave a contented sigh. 

“I thought I told you to _shut the hell up!”_ A voice called out from just beyond his thin walls. 

“Sorry!” Warren apologized with a smile. Though, he didn’t have to. With a flick of his wrist he pulled on empty space and his clock sat on the table undisturbed. That was _so_ cool. 

That’s when an idea struck him. He did say he wanted a do-over of Nathan’s conversation. Could he really go that far back? Warren looked at his now-restored clock. 2:17 a.m. The conversation took place about fifteen minutes ago. (Or maybe ten? Five? With all the rewinding, he wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed. He made a note to keep track from now on. Get a watch or something.) Focusing on the clock, he pulled. 

He felt the space around him shift as time rewound. As the seconds ticked by it became harder and harder to keep the pull. A pressure was forming inside his skull like it was being squeezed. His vision began to fade and a splitting headache took over all his senses. Warren let go. 

2:16 a.m. _What, for real? Man, that felt like an eternity,_ he thought, clutching his head painfully. So he could only go back for a minute, that was lame. Maybe with practice he would get better at it and will be able to go back further. Still, a minute was pretty cool. 

He couldn’t wait to tell Max about it. She loved to geek out about science fiction with him; she’d probably think that was the coolest thing ever. He instinctively got his phone and began typing when he saw the wave of unread messages he sent. Oh, right. She was missing. 

And Kate was dead. A dreadful thought occurred to him. Was that what happened? The vision of Kate dying over and over again. That was just his powers? The more he thought about it the more it made sense. The horror of seeing Kate jump and the need to save her compelled his powers to activate and rewound that moment. 

That means he could have saved her. Warren’s heart gave a painful tug. He was the only one that could have saved her and he blew it. Now Max was missing and he swore to use his powers to find her. He failed Kate, but he wasn’t going to fail Max. 

_“With great power, comes great responsibility.”_

First things first was figuring out his powers. And Warren had just the plan to research it.

ooo

For once, Warren didn’t wake up to the sound of his alarm. Only because he hadn’t slept a wink. He spent the entire night marathoning time travel movies: _Time Cop, The Butterfly Effect,_ and _Time After Time._ He was halfway through the first _Back to the Future_ when the alarm blared. Without his eyes leaving the screen he grabbed the clock, threw it against the wall, and rewound before turning it off gently. 

He switched off the movie, mournfully wishing his time powers involved a DeLorean. Warren grabbed his showering essentials and left the room. He didn’t bother hiding from Nathan this time--if anything, he found himself actually _wanting_ to talk to the guy. With his new ability, he could get all the answers he wanted, he just had to play his cards right.

After a quick shower (Logan and Zachary weren’t around to torment him this time, thank God), Warren found himself to be more awake than someone who hadn’t slept more than thirty minutes should be. On his way out of the dorms, he found Luke Parker taking some posters down from the bulletin and replacing them with his own. 

Upon closer inspection, Warren noticed that the posters he was taking down were Rachel Amber’s. 

“Why are you taking those down?” Warren asked.

Luke took a while to process him, like he couldn’t find a reason why someone would complain about it. “Coach Phillips asked me to put these up. There’s not enough space.”

Warren didn’t know why he felt so defensive over the posters. He imagined Luke doing the same to posters of Max and it made his blood boil. “You could’ve taken something else down. Like this notice about someone looking for a cat tablet or something.”

Luke put his hands up. “No way man, I’m not touching that. ‘Sides, there’s like a billion of these posters all over campus. If you haven’t read them by now you’re either illiterate or you don’t give a shit.”

“Someone should,” said Warren.

“Aren’t you new here? Did you even _know_ Rachel?”

Warren floundered. “I, uh…”

“Exactly. So why don’t you go be a self-righteous little shit somewhere else?”

Well, that couldn’t have gone worse. Thank the stars he could have a do-over. He extended his arm and turned back time until he was sure the conversation never happened.

Then he started again.

“Hey, Luke. What’s with the posters?” He went for a more casual approach this time.

Luke turned his head to look at him, but didn’t stop what he was doing. “Hm? Coach told me to put these up. They’re for the Bigfoots game this Friday.” He handed Warren a flyer.

The flyer read _‘GO GO BIGFOOTS! Support your team THIS FRIDAY NIGHT @ Henderson Field 8 PM!’_ then it listed off the names of the players. Warren scrunched his nose at it. He wasn’t a sports fan at all. 

“I didn’t know you played football,” he asked Luke.

Luke shrugged. “I don’t, but I love the sport as much as any other American.”

Any American except Warren. “Yeah football’s… Football’s great.” He tried to feign interest, but did a poor job of it. 

Luke didn’t catch on. “Yeah, and it’s a big one, against one of our all-time rivals. You coming?”

“Totally, I wouldn’t miss a game between Bigfoots and the, uh,” shit, Warren actually had no idea who they were playing against. He tried to think of any time he might’ve heard it, his mind going to the crude caricature of a Bigfoot fucking an Otter drawn in the swimming pool. “The Otters?”

That was the wrong answer, based on the look Luke gave him. He spoke really slowly, as if he was talking to someone dim. “...The Otters are our swimming team. Do you even know anything about sports or are you here to waste my time?”

 _This is what you get for talking about sports, Warren,_ he mentally chastised himself. He decided to try this again and this time steer the conversation _away_ from the subject.

“I don’t, but I love the sport as much as any other American.”

Warren pointed to the stack of posters in Luke’s left hand. “What about the posters you’re taking down?”

“What, the Rachel Amber ones? If you ask me I think she’s,” he made a gesture with his hand and his throat and added an off-putting choking sound. Warren grimaced at the crude pantomime. 

“Did you know her?” He asked.

“From a distance. She was part of the Vortex Club posse, with Nathan and Logan and all those other guys. I’d off myself before I had to associate with any of them.”

“Yeah, didn’t they shove you into a locker last week?”

Luke sneered. “All they do is tear people down and kick them while they’re at it. They’re bastards and I wouldn’t be surprised if you found them gutted and thrown in the back of an alley someday.”

That incited a visual in Warren’s head of Nathan dead and bleeding on some cold floor. The thought disturbed him. Warren loved dark shit, but not when it involved other people. 

“Uh-huh. Anyway, I got to go. Catch you some other time? Maybe?”

“Sure. You seem pretty cool.”

Warren felt more confident at that moment than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He almost couldn’t believe it worked. This was gonna be a great day. 

He saw Stella sitting on a picnic table eating breakfast. She looked marginally better than yesterday. Her eyes were no longer red or puffy, but she still had this sad air around her. Warren sat across from her, a small smile on his face.

“Hey bella Stella, what’s shakin’?” 

She sniggered. “That’s not how you pronounce _‘bella’,_ Warren.”

Warren gave a dramatic gasp and held his hand over his chest. “What? I’ll have you know I scored a perfect 97% on my last Spanish exam.”

“Good thing it wasn’t an oral test, then.”

“Haha, ouch. So, how are you holding up?”

“A lot better now that you’re here.”

“That’s the second best compliment I’ve gotten in the last eight minutes.”

“What was the other contender?”

“Luke said I was ‘pretty cool’.”

She gave a heartfelt laugh. “I’m surprised you even got two words out of _The Incredible Sulk.”_

“Same. He was taking down some Rachel Amber posters down at the dorm, replacing them with football flyers.”

“Ah, Rachel Amber. Now there’s a wild card,” she said, leaning forward on her seat and taking a large sip of her orange juice. 

“Did you know her?”

“Not really. She hung out with all the ‘kool kidz’, like Nathan and Victoria. Not my scene. But she absolutely slept with Mr. Jefferson.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way! I heard it from a totally reliable source,” she winked at him.

Warren waved his hand dismissively. “I think you need to get new sources. I heard Victoria’s been hitting on him something hardcore, but he’s shot her down. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would go sleeping around with his students.”

The corner of her lip quirked in the tiniest of smiles. “You have a lot to learn, Warren. The amount of dirt you can dig up on Rachel can load up a landfill.”

“What do you think happened to her, then?”

“The consensus is that she left Arcadia Bay. She was always talking about being a model and moving to L.A., so most people think she did and didn’t tell anyone. The juicier word on the street is that she’s probably buried in a ditch somewhere thanks to her connections with a drug dealer. David Madsen said she was a ‘drug mule’; his words, not mine.”

Warren whistled, impressed. “Wow. You really do have dirt on anyone. What do you know about me?” He asked, curious.

Stella snorted, but complied. “You’re here on a full academic scholarship, but you’re terrible at English class. You pull pranks on the students and even the faculty on a regular basis, but have never gotten caught. And you’ve got a cute butt.”

Warren could feel his face getting hot. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Oh wow, that’s ah… Three compliments in a row, I’m on a roll today.”

“Unfortunately, everyone and their mother knows you’ve got a crush on Maxine, so you’re mostly off the market.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure was now. “That obvious?”

“I’ll feel bad for you if you tell me you’ve been trying to hide it.” He hadn’t, not consciously, but he didn’t think he was _that_ obvious.

“Ouch.” He had to give her credit. Though she mostly kept to herself, Stella was observant as hell. She would make a great private investigator if she wasn’t set on photography. Maybe she could help him find Max. He decided to ask. “Uh, what do you know about Max?”

“Are you giving me an opportunity to sabotage her so I can get a chance?” She teased.

“No, just, I haven’t seen her in a while. I was wondering maybe you knew where she might be.”

Stella chewed on her straw, deep in thought. In the end, she shrugged and said, “I’m afraid I don’t know much about her. She’s new, like you, and keeps to herself. I take Advance Photography with her. She’s pretty good. Mr. Jefferson takes special notice in her work and it drives Victoria crazy.”

“I can imagine.”

“I did hear that Prescott kid was asking around for her, though. Two days ago. He even went to her dorm and everything.”

Her _dorm?_ That was a little extreme, even for Warren. And suspicious. “I heard that too. Why do you think he’s looking for her? I don’t think they were friends…”

“Beats me. Nathan’s a mean fucker, I don’t want to mess with him.”

“Do you know where he is?” Warren asked.

“I saw him talking to Jefferson over by the school plaza a few minutes ago. Why? You gonna take him on?”

“I just want to ask him some questions.”

Stella shrugged again and returned to eating her sandwich. “Your funeral.” 

Warren gave her a few words of gratitude before making his way to the plaza. Nathan and Victoria were easy to find, sitting together under a tree near the school entrance. They were laughing. _Probably at someone else’s expense,_ he thought.

 _Just remember your time powers, Warren._ He took a deep breath, for courage, and walked up to the laughing pair. They stopped as soon as he was in their line of sight, Victoria looking confused but nonetheless glaring at him. Nathan made a face that would be appropriate if Warren pulled down his pants and took a shit in his shoes.

“What do _you_ want?” Victoria hissed. “Can’t you see the adults are talking?”

“He’s been stalking me ever since that bitch Max disappeared,” said Nathan.

“Is that it? Your master’s gone so you gotta latch on to another one?” Victoria wasn’t even playing anymore, she was going in for the kill. Warren could feel his resolve waning.

“What, no! That’s not--” Nathan and Victoria looked at him unamused while he stumbled over his words. Warren took a deep breath to compose himself. “Look, I would like to talk to Nathan. Alone. Please?”

Victoria scoffed. “As if. Anything you can say to Nathan, you can say to me.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you,” Nathan added.

“And he doesn’t want to talk to you,” she parroted.

Warren threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, whatever. Forget I said anything.”

“Done and done.” Victoria turned back towards Nathan and they began talking as if Warren had never been there in the first place.

“Bitches.” He muttered under his breath as he was walking away.

A simple rewind wouldn’t fix _that_ situation. He could try the conversation a million times but he had a feeling Victoria wouldn’t budge. He had to get rid of her if he wanted to get to Nathan. But first, he had to make sure that they didn’t remember that conversation at all. 

He rewound until his vision went red and he could feel the beginnings of a headache at the back of his skull. Then a thought struck him. What if he went too far back and Stella wouldn’t remember talking to him? He couldn’t tell how much time had passed (or rather, had _not_ passed). What was his limit, a minute? Walking back to the dormitories, he decided to test it.

“Hey, Stella.” She was still eating her sandwich at the picnic table.

She looked up at him. “You’re back already? You barely left for more than ten seconds.” Warren breathed a sigh of relief. She still remembered. Good.

“Didn’t take long.”

“How did it go?”

Warren plopped down at the bench. He laid his chin on the table and looked at Stella miserably. “Terrible. I can’t even get close to him without Victoria snubbing me.”

“Yeah, she’s a bitch like that,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“They were, like, finishing each other’s sentences and everything. Like they had ESP. It was creepy.”

“They’re _both_ creepy, Warren.” Stella patted his head reassuringly. 

“Tell me something that will help.”

“I still think you have a cute butt,” she pointed out.

This time he didn’t flush. “No, I mean with Victoria.”

“Oh! Hm,” there was a long pause while Stella tried to think. In the end, she sighed and shook her head. “I’ve got nothing. You need to get rid of her. Send her to her dorm.”

“Yeah, but how do I do that?”

“Beats me. You’re the prankster here, you can probably think of something.”

 _Prankster._ The word rang out in Warren’s brain. It was as if a light switch flipped on and illuminated all the devious corners of his mind. He straightened himself abruptly. “That… actually gives me an idea.”

“Fill me in.”

“If it works out, you’ll know.” Warren gave her a cheeky grin and stood up from the bench.

“Good luck, Warr!” Stella said as he ran back to his dormitory.

ooo

Most teenage boys collected porn magazines, moldy socks, or dust bunnies under their bed. Warren, however, had an arsenal. He pulled out an unassuming suitcase that contained his deadliest weapons.

Firecrackers, whoopee cushions, buzzers, itch powder… All handmade of course. He took each of them out, inspecting them and trying to figure out how he could use them against Victoria. He’d have to get too close for the itch powder, the whoopee cushions wouldn’t help, firecrackers might be too dangerous, a buzzer might just send an angry Nathan after him… 

Right as he was about to reconsider his stance on the firecrackers, his eyes flicked over a black shoebox behind the suitcase. _Eureka!_ He shuffled the box to him and gazed at his greatest invention. 

Stink bombs.

He’d made them last week, which gave them more than enough time to ferment and harness their gross, stinky energy. He kept them in a separate box, in case one of them exploded inside the suitcase and ruined everything else. If he could get his aim just right, they would be perfect for scaring away Victoria. And he’d have some sweet revenge that way too.

Weapon in hand and a sneaky grin in place, he made his way over to where Nathan and Victoria sat under the tree, giggling. He looked around for the best vantage point--he had to get his aim just right--and settled behind one of the giant displays with Mr. Jefferson’s photography. He had a perfect angle of his target, all he had to do was hit the mark.

He pulled his arm back and threw the bomb as hard as he could, only to have it miss the target completely. They didn’t even notice the smell from how far away it was. What did Warren say about not being into sports? Oh yeah, he sucked at them. 

Warren had never been more glad for his rewind powers.

He rewound time until the balloon found itself back at his grip, waiting to be thrown. He tried again, using a little less force this time, and it landed a few feet away from the couple. Warren watched as they started to notice the stench. 

“Nathan, ew! Did you just fart?” Victoria pinched her nose, her voice coming out nasally. “Seriously, what the fuck did you eat?”

“It wasn’t me, Victoria!” Nathan threw his hands up in defense. “Gross, that fuckin’ reeks.”

“Where is it coming from?”

“Maybe there’s a dead body somewhere,” Nathan said, standing up. 

Victoria held up her hand and Nathan helped her stand. “Whatever it is, it’s gross. Let’s get out of here.”

Nathan grunted in agreement and the pair walked away. Well, that didn’t help at all. Warren needed Nathan to _stay._ He held up his hand and turned back time for about the hundredth time that day.

The stink bomb was back in hand and Warren’s victims were back in place. He changed his aim and let her rip. The balloon hit Nathan square in the back.

“Fuck!” Warren heard Nathan yell. 

“Are you okay? Oh my God, that smells!”

Nathan stood up and began shouting at the air, looking around wildly for the perpetrator. “Who threw that! I swear to _GOD,_ you’re going to fucking die! Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“Take your jacket off!” Victoria said. 

Nathan did, holding his red jacket as far away from his body as he could, until Victoria stood in front of him and began fretting with his cardigan underneath. 

“What are you doing?” Nathan lightly swatted her hands away, only to have Victoria return them pulling at his buttons. 

“It’s soaked in all the way, just take off your cardigan.”

“No.” He grabbed Victoria's hands to stop them. 

She wrenched them away and rolled her eyes. “Nathan, you’re wearing like a million layers, just take it off.”

“I said, no!” When she didn't relent, he began pushing her away, but she grabbed him by the arm and pulled at his sleeve. He started panicking. “Let go!”

“Come on, just let me--” Victoria was interrupted as Nathan threw his stink bomb infused jacket at her face. She screeched. 

Warren laughed into his hand as Nathan actually _ran_ to get away from Victoria. He laughed even harder when she actually chased after him.“You’re impossible! Get over here!”

“I’m not taking it off!”

“Nathan!”

As hilarious as the situation was, it didn’t help Warren at all with his current objective. He watched them run around for a few seconds until Victoria had Nathan pinned to the ground, before realizing that if he wanted to rewind he had to do it before his minute ran out.

This time, he hit his target right on the bullseye.

“Agh!”

“What the fuck? Holy _shit,_ that reeks!”

Warren quietly whooped behind the display while he waited for Victoria to leave. When Nathan was alone, _finally_ alone, he emerged from his hiding spot and trailed after him. He must have not noticed Warren, because he got up and began walking away. 

“Yo, Nathan, wait up!” Warren called out, but Nathan didn’t slow down. 

There’s no way he didn’t hear that, so Warren deduced that Nathan was just being an asshole and ignoring him. Typical. He caught up to him and walked at his pace. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Hell no.” 

But Warren wasn’t going to let him get away that easy, not after everything he went through. He stood in front of the guy, forcing him to stop walking and allowing Warren to catch his breath. Rewinding took a lot out of him.

Nathan looked at him impatiently. Warren got straight to the point. “What do you know about Max?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as Nathan sucked in an angry breath and shoved past him. “Oh no. No no no, I am not going through this shit again. You and everyone else can just fuck off, I’m not in the mood.”

Warren struggled to keep up with him. “You’re looking for her, right? Why?”

Nathan stopped and pivoted on his heel, facing Warren. “Holy fucking shit. Why the fuck do you care. Is she your girlfriend? Are you scared I’m gonna fuck her?”

Warren’s face got hot all the way to the tip of his ears. He stumbled over his words. “Wait, what? No, that’s what?” This wasn’t going at all like he planned.

“Stay the fuck out of my business, I’m fucking warning you. I don’t want anything to do with you or that twee hipster bitch. Piss me off again and I swear I will make your life a living--”

Okay, no. _Rewind, rewind!_

“Hell no,” Nathan unknowingly repeated.

In retrospect, Warren should have probably known that Nathan was not going to make this easy for him. Also in retrospect, he should have had a plan B. Good thing he was quick on his feet.

“What have you been doing?” Warren asked.

“Are you forreal? What the fuck does it matter to you what I’ve been doing? I swear if you’re spying on me I will sue you for harassment!” Nathan shoved his finger at Warren’s chest.

“I told you, I’m not spying on you.”

“Then why have you been following me around these past few days? Huh? I thought we settled this. I didn’t have anything to do with Max or Kate.” 

Warren wanted to bring up that the first time they talked Nathan had come to _him,_ but that would get him nowhere. “I don’t believe you,” he said simply.

“Tough.” Nathan shoved past him, much like the first time, but this time Warren didn’t follow him. 

Instead, he took a risk. “Logan and Zachary said you roofied Kate.”

The effect was instantaneous. Nathan stopped in his tracks, then turned slowly to face Warren. “They said _what?”_ He sounded dangerously angry.

“That you roofied--”

“I heard you the first time you brainless dumbass!” Nathan said, raising his voice. “If those boneheaded fuckwads are spreading rumors about me, I swear to FUCK they’re gonna pay.” 

Nathan looked like he was ready to kill somebody, but he also looked… scared? His eyes were shifting left to right, as if to make sure no one was around to hear their conversation, and his skin was turning pale instead of red. Yep, he was definitely scared. And angry.

“Calm down, dude.” 

“You’re telling ME to calm down? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Warren kept his tone placid. “Nobody. I just wanna find my friend, that’s all.”

Nathan didn’t change his stance, but calmed down visibly. “Well, tough fucking shit. She’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Nope, nu-uh, I’m not even considering that.” He did _not_ want to think about Max being any kind of dead. She couldn’t be.

“Why not? The bitch had a double life, apparently.”

“Wait, what? What double life?” This was news to Warren.

Nathan shrugged. “She has some sort of ‘secret best friend’. Nobody knows who she is, but I bet she knows where Max is.”

“How do you know this?”

“Yeah, right. Not telling. You can go fuck yourself.” Nathan flipped him off and walked away.

Just as they were getting somewhere. Warren thanked the stars once again for his power.

“She has some sort of ‘secret best friend’. Nobody knows who she is, but I bet she knows where Max is.”

Warren believed he was finally starting to understand how Nathan worked. “You’re lying,” he said.

An ugly, humorless laugh was Nathan’s response. “Wow, you really are a dumbfuck. I heard it from a reliable source.”

“Which is?”

“The waitress over at Two Whales. Max was like her second daughter and they were all one big happy family until her husband kicked the bucket,” he said, but then his shoulders slumped and he looked to the floor. He looked like he regretted it. “Uh, forget I said that, actually.”

Finally, he had a lead. Still, there was something curious about that. “I didn’t think a Prescott would be caught dead in such a plebeian restaurant.”

Nathan seemed to get defensive. “I can go anywhere I want, title be damned. You’re not completely wrong, though.”

“So… You go there often?” 

Nathan’s brow furrowed in confusion and probably in offense. “What the fuck?” 

_Shit,_ that did NOT come out the way Warren intended. He could feel himself blushing for the hundredth-millionth time that day. He rewound without even giving it a second thought. 

“I can go anywhere I want, title be damned. You’re not completely wrong, though.”

“What does that mean?” Warren probed.

“My dad wouldn’t ever step foot in that place, one of the reasons I like it so much.”

“You don’t like your dad?” Now he was just being nosy, but the way Nathan talked, no, _gloated,_ about his father Warren thought they had a close relationship.

“Wow, you’re probably the biggest idiot I’ve ever met. I’ve met some real dumbasses back in my day but you really take the cake.” 

Warren rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Fine, be a dick about it.” 

Nathan ignored him. “Spoiler alert: He’s an asshole. I go to the diner practically every morning just to avoid him.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Yeah, well, no fucking shit.”

Okay, Warren had enough information and then some. Time to do this right. He rewound to the beginning of the conversation. 

“Hell no.”

“I just wanna talk. I know you’ve been asking around for Max.”

Nathan eyed him suspiciously. “Why’d you think that?”

Warren didn’t know that to say. “I, uh, saw you at the Two Whales this morning. You asked the waitress about it,” he bluffed.

Nathan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“I was, ah... at the other side of the diner.” Warren hated lying, he was shit at it. There was no way Nathan would buy that.

But to his surprise, he did. “Yeah, well, whatever. I have no idea where your precious Max is, so stop asking.”

“Fine. Why are you looking for her though? If you’re asking around, it’s gotta be pretty serious.”

“She saw something she shouldn’t have. I’m just trying to make sure she keeps her ugly mouth shut.”

This is brand new information for Warren. “Wait, what did she see?”

“None of your business,” Nathan said harshly.

“But--”

“Beat it, nerd.” 

No, he was _so close_ to figuring it out, Warren knew it. He just needed to rewind one more time and make sure he asked the right questions.

The last rewind had him struggling more than usual and left his head throbbing, but Warren managed.

“Yeah, well, whatever. I have no idea where your precious Max is, so--” Nathan cut himself off and stared at him oddly.

“What?” 

“The hell?” Nathan had been staring at him so strangely that Warren began to wonder if he was beginning to catch on somehow, until he felt something hot drip down his nose onto his lips. He tapped at one of his nostrils with his fingers, surprised when he saw blood coating them.

“Oh,” he said brightly.

“You’re bleeding.” _Thank you, Captain Obvious._

“Thanks, I noticed.” He automatically licked some of the blood away, immediately regretting it when he tasted the gross metal on his tongue. Warren wiped the blood on his forearm and noticed that Nathan’s eyes had followed through every motion. “Uh dude? I know it’s gross, but you’re kind of staring.”

Nathan was, of course, immediately offended. “No, I fucking wasn’t. Who do you think you are?”

“Huh? What does that--”

“Just stay out of my fucking business or you’ll regret it, you hear? I told you to watch your back and I meant it. Don’t test me,” Nathan growled before turning on his heel and practically stomping away.

That was weird, even by Nathan’s standards. Warren raised his arm, intent on rewinding to the point where he forgot the entire conversation, but changed his mind. The nosebleed had to be a side effect to all the rewinding he’d been doing. He was so stoked by his own powers that he forgoed the possibility of them having consequences. He vowed not to use them unless he had to. 

ooo

At least he finally had a lead. He sat on his usual booth, cheek in hand while his other hand affectionately traced over the graffiti he carved in a few years ago. Like always, he hadn’t gotten caught. He was waiting for the waitress to reach his table and wondering how he was going to breach the question. 

_“Hey, I know this is a weird question, but can I meet your daughter?”_

_“There’s this guy that came in earlier and he asked you about Max Caulfield. What did you tell him, exactly?”_

_“I have all this inside knowledge on your family, I’m sorry your husband passed and I want to talk to your daughter about this girl who may or may not be missing.”_

Warren was sure there was a more practical way to ask these questions, but he couldn’t help that he was awkward. He didn’t even know the waitress’ name. Joy or something. 

When said nameless waitress passed over his table, pad in hand, he still found himself at a loss of what to say. 

“Welcome to Two Whales, hun. What can I get ya?”

“Coffee, but I haven’t decided what to order yet.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black.”

She gave him that raised eyebrow look that most people do when they find out he preferred his coffee without milk or sugar. What could he say? He liked bitter things. 

“I’ll be back with your coffee in a few, let me know if you need anything.”

“Hey, um, actually--” The words died on his tongue as the front door was practically blown open, the bell above it jingling uncontrollably. A tall, blue haired girl swaggered in like she owned the place, and the other patrons seemed to agree as they waved or high-fived her when she passed them by. 

She was the definition of punk rock in the flesh. Ripped jeans, a leather jacket, black boots, a beanie low in her head, and a three-bullet necklace. She strode up to the waitress, a shit-eating grin on her face.

The waitress clearly disapproved. “Could you make a bigger entrance? I don’t think everyone heard you come in,” she said sarcastically.

“You know me,” said the girl, then sat on the booth in front of Warren’s. “Pancakes and eggs, please.”

The waitress crossed her arms. “And how exactly are you going to pay for those?”

“Just put it on my tab.”

“You put your whole damn college fund on that tab.”

“What’s a few extra bucks?”

“Fine,” the waitress relented, “but you’re not getting any bacon.”

“Lame,” the girl groaned.

 _That must be her._ Warren could barely believe his luck. Unless the waitress chastised all her customers, this had to be her daughter. Not knowing how else to approach her, Warren stood up and sat on the couch opposite her. She had been staring distractedly out the window, but straightened when he sat across from her, startled. 

_Any friend of Max is a friend of mine,_ he told himself reassuringly. If all else failed, he could just rewind time, but he promised only to use it in emergencies, so he didn’t want to risk driving her away. He gave her the most disarming smile he could muster. “Hi, I’m Warren.”

She stared at him, completely unamused. “I’m ‘Not Interested’.”

He laughed awkwardly. “Ah, no, it’s not like that. I just want to ask you a question.”

“If the question is if I have a boyfriend or some cheesy pick up line you’re going to be really--”

“No, I said it wasn’t like that. I just want to ask you one question then I’ll piss off, I swear.”

“Spit it out, then.”

“Do you know Max Caulfield?”

At the name, she froze, her eyes going wide. It was for only about two seconds though, before she snorted and looked away. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in awhile.”

Finally, he was getting somewhere. “So you do know her?”

“Yeah. She was my best friend before she fucked off and left for Seattle. Not even a fucking phone call or an email after that. So much for friendship.”

Or not. “Wait, so you haven’t heard from her recently? At all?”

“No, why should I? It’s not like I can pack my bags and go to Seattle.”

“Max has been living in Arcadia Bay for about a month now. She goes to Blackwell.”

She blinked at him. Her face was frustratingly blank. “...What?”

Warren slumped in his seat, disappointed. “I thought you knew. I was kinda hoping you did.”

“She moved back to Arcadia and didn’t even tell me? She’s been back for a _month_ now and didn’t think to visit me?”

“I don’t know--”

“Why are you telling me this? Just to rub it in my face? Fuck you.”

“No, no, listen. Max is missing. Nobody has seen her these past few days and I thought you might’ve known what happened.”

“...She’s missing?”

“Yeah, well, she _might_ be. I’ve been calling and texting her nonstop but she hasn’t replied. I’ve asked others if they have seen her but no one has. Even others are looking for her.”

At this, she froze again. She sat stiff as a board and stared blankly at him. It looked like she was in shock. Warren waved his hand in front of her face.

“Uh, hello? Earth to, uh,” that was right he didn’t even know her name.

The waitress chose this moment to interrupt. “Chloe, is this boy bothering you?”

The punk, _Chloe,_ snapped out of it. “Mom, did you know Max is in Arcadia Bay and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yes, I heard about that, I’ve been meaning to tell you--”

“Wait a minute.” Shock turned to anger and turned to rage. “You _knew_ Max was in Arcadia Bay and _you_ didn’t tell me?!”

“I hadn’t had the chance to tell you! I only found out about it this morning!”

Chle gritted her teeth. “I can’t trust anybody, can’t I? Not you, or step douche, or even fucking Max!”

“Watch your mouth, Chloe. I have told you a thousand times not to refer to David like that,” the waitress scolded her.

“He _is_ a douche. He can’t even keep his dumbass job and wants an all out militia in our house.”

“You need to show David some respect, he’s been nothing but good to you...”

Warren wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He couldn’t do anything but sit there as Chloe and her mom went at it, fighting over personal family issues. Out of all the outcomes he might have expected, this was _not_ at the list.

Warren was startled out of his reverie when Chloe slammed her hands on the table.“Fine, whatever! Come on, Walter, we’re going,” she stood up, grabbing Warren’s arm and pulling him up with her. Walter?

“You always do this, whenever you don’t like something you blow up then run away from it. Nobody’s attacking you here, Chloe.”

“Sure, like my entire life _hasn’t_ been about people abandoning me when I need them the most.”

“You’re impossible,” the waitress shook her head, defeated, and went into the kitchen.

Warren allowed Chloe to pull him out of the diner. None of the other patrons bothered to look up from their meal at the verbal brawl, as if this was a common occurrence in the restaurant. Warren was starting to think that it was.

“Come on,” Chloe let go of his arm once they were in the parking lot, “I know somewhere we can talk alone.”

ooo

The place Chloe mentioned was the beach. Warren rolled up the sleeves of his shirt at the heat. They were walking side by side on the boardwalk, and neither of them had said anything since entering the car. It was a heavy, awkward silence, and Warren wasn’t sure how to break it.

He didn’t have to. “How do you know about Max? Are you her friend? Boyfriend?” Chloe asked.

“Just a friend. I go to Blackwell with her. We have History together,” he said.

“It seems everybody has a history with Max.”

“I, uh, I meant the class. Not _that.”_

Chloe snorted and Warren felt a little more relaxed. “That’s a relief. I almost thought I was dealing with a stalker ex or something.”

Warren laughed but they soon fell into silence after that. He detested pauses in conversations, it made him feel jittery and he usually babbled on to fill the silence. Ms. Grant once told him he had the gift of gab, a gift that’s served him well these past few days, if he was being honest.

“Do you know about Rachel Amber?” Chloe asked.

“I didn’t know her personally. But her posters are everywhere. She’s kinda hard to miss,” Warren said.

“She was hard to miss in real life, too,” Chloe gave a wistful smile. “She was, _is,_ my best friend after Max left. She was there for me after my dad died and mom married my step-hole. She’s been missing since April.”

Warren could guess where she was going with this, and he did not want to venture into that territory. “I heard she moved to California or something.”

“That’s what everyone thinks. We were supposed to go together, she wouldn’t have abandoned me. She wouldn’t.”

“And you think--”

“Something’s happened to her. I used to think that she left me like everyone else, but if you say Max is missing too, then something must have happened. People don’t just disappear for no reason.”

Warren couldn’t ignore the logic of that. He was a man of science and reason. Two girls went missing within six months of each other, that couldn’t just be a coincidence. He didn’t want to think of the implications of it.

“What you’re saying is whatever happened to Rachel, happened to Max.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. I don’t know how much she’s changed, but Max wouldn’t have gone AWOL for no reason.”

“So, in conclusion…”

“If we find Rachel, we find Max.”

“And vice-versa.”

“Have you told anybody about Max? The police?”

“No, I wanted to be sure she was missing before I raised any alarms,” Warren said, feeling guilty. Maybe he should have involved the police. If something happened to her, they could have stopped it.

Chloe didn’t seem to care. “Doesn’t really change anything. The police don’t do jack-shit here anyways.”

“Do we know where to start looking?”

“Have you checked Max’s room for clues?” No, but Nathan has. Warren didn’t say this out loud, in case Nathan really did have nothing to do with Max being gone.

“Not really.”

“That’s where we start.”

They were about to leave, when they heard footsteps coming around the bend. A man with a devious smirk and a predatory glint in his eyes walked up to them. Warren saw Chloe stiffen to his left. The man whistled.

“Well, well, look who’s here. If it isn’t my favorite punk-rocker. Sorry, for interrupting your romantic stroll along the beach,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Chloe crossed her arms and stared him down. She looked nervous. This was bad. “What do you want, Frank?”

“You don’t have to play dumb with me, Chloe. I know how smart you are.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

Frank spread his arms, looking around him. “But you seem to have all the time in the world. Enough time to go out on dates. Which, unless you’re looking for a sugar daddy, shouldn’t be the most important way to spend it.”

Chloe clenched her teeth. “You’ll get your money, Frank.”

“That’s what they all say. Especially the ones that don’t have it.”

“I’m working on it.”

“You’ve been ‘working on it’ for weeks, I’m running out of patience and generosity.”

Okay, money issues. Got it. This _was_ bad. Warren shifted anxiously from foot to foot. He decided to step in. “Hey, lay off man.”

“Stay out of this, Boy Wonder. This is between me and that freeloader over there.” Frank extended his arm and pointed between him and Chloe.

“Where did you get that bracelet?” She asked. What bracelet?

He hid his arm under his back. “A friend. And it’s none of your goddamn business. You’re my business now and I--”

Chloe walked around him to get a view of his wrist. “That’s Rachel’s bracelet. Why the fuck are you wearing her bracelet?”

Warren saw it, a blue feminine bracelet adorned his wrist. That was Rachel’s? 

“Calm yourself, alright? It was a gift,” said Frank.

“No it wasn’t. You stole that shit! Give it to me right now, asshole!” She reached for it and in a flash, Frank pulled out a switchblade and held it inches from her face. Oh shit.

“You better step back before you regret it, girl. I mean it.”

“No, YOU take a step back.” Chloe reached for the small of her back and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at Frank’s chest. _Oh shit!_ Frank was thinking something along the same lines, because he stepped back immediately. Chloe’s hands shook with the gun. “That’s right. Tell me where you got the bracelet.”

This was bad, this was really bad. Warren didn’t know where she got a gun or how he could intervene.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too chickenshit to pull the trigger,” said Frank.

“Try me,” challenged Chloe.

He did.

A gunshot rang out and threatened to shatter Warren’s eardrums. He jumped back from the sound, covering his ears too late. The kick of the gun nearly sent it flying from Chloe’s shaking hands, and the force of the hit caused Frank to fall on his back.

“Argh! FUCK. Friggin’ bitch, you shot me!” He lay squirming on the ground, clutching his left shoulder.

Chloe gasped. “Oh _shit!_ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What do you mean ‘oh shit’, what the fuck did you expect!” Frank groaned in pain.

“Shit! We gotta take him to the hospital,” Warren kneeled next to Frank, unsure of what to do.

Frank shook his head. “No hospitals, thank you.”

“But you got shot,” Warren said brightly.

“Yeah, I know, Einstein! I’ll manage _somehow_ without the police.” Frank shifted until he got to his knees. He snubbed Warren’s attempts to help. Then, he fixed Chloe with the most hateful glare Warren had ever seen. “And _you.”_

“What?” Chloe asked.

“You better hope I don’t see your face ever again. If I do, I’ll make sure you wish you would’ve killed me.”

“You’re telling me this now? I still got five bullets left, genius.”

Frank got onto his feet. “You’re an asshole, not a murderer. Like I said, I know how smart you are.”

With that, he walked away, leaving a large puddle of blood on the sandy path and a trail of red droplets behind him. The blood will be hidden away by the sand in time. Wait, time! With everything that had been going on, Warren forgot he had time powers. He swore to only use it for emergencies, and he was sure this counted as an emergency. 

He didn’t really have a plan, but he didn’t have the time to come up with one anyway. Warren rewound time as far as he could, but couldn’t get far back enough to prevent the situation from escalating in the first place.

“Where did you get that bracelet?”

“Calm yourself, alright? It was a gift.”

“No it wasn’t. You stole that shit! Give it to me right now, asshole!”

Frank pulled out his switchblade and advanced on Chloe. “You better step back before you regret it, girl. I mean it.”

It was now or never. Warren gripped Chloe’s right wrist with his hand, stopping her from pulling the gun off the small of her back. He stepped right between her and the knife.

“I said. Lay. Off,” he said with more confidence than he possessed. 

Frank snorted and put the switchblade away. Thank _God._ “I can’t tell if you’re brave or stupid, but word of advice: she’s not worth it.” 

“She’ll get you your money. I’m helping her.”

Frank guffawed. _“You?_ You look like the only income you get is from your parent’s allowance.” Ouch. The truth of it stung. 

Warren started when he heard Chloe’s voice whispering right at his ear. “He has Rachel’s bracelet. He probably had something to do with her. And Max.” Oh, that’s right.

“Where _did_ you get that bracelet? No offense, but it doesn’t go with your jacket,” he joked nervously.

Frank didn’t seem to care. “I already told you, it was a gift.”

“From Rachel Amber?” Warren asked.

Chloe stepped out from behind Warren. “Bullshit. She would never give anything of hers to a loser like Frank.” _Chloe, no offense, but please shut the fuck up…_

And _of course_ that comment got Frank angry. He advanced on them again and Warren stepped back, pulling Chloe with him. “You know, I’m getting real tired of hearing your big fuckin’--” 

A loud wail and a crash interrupted them. _What in the world?_

The sound turned Frank’s attention elsewhere. “What the fuck was that?” 

The three of them must have agreed on some sort of unspoken truce as they made their way around the dune to investigate the sound. Neither of them expected what they saw.

“Holy shit,” Warren breathed.

A giant whale lay bleeding and thrashing on its side on the edge of the shore. It made distressed sounds as it tried to get back in the water. 

“Poor thing. The sun’ll cook it in minutes,” lamented Frank. Warren was surprised at the show of sympathy.

“We’ve got to help it somehow,” Warren said, walking up to the beast.

Chloe remained where she stood. “How? Look at that thing, it’s huge.”

“And it’s low tide. Getting it back into the water is impossible,” said Frank.

“There’s gotta be something…” Warren tried to wrack his brain for ideas but it was coming up empty. 

“Give it up, kid. It’s as good as gone.” 

“What is that?” Chloe said. Warren followed her line of sight, heart sinking when he saw a massive black shape thrashing in the water.

“Shit, another one?” 

In the distance, he could see more whales struggling near the shore. It was probably an entire pod, caught in a bad current and careening towards the coast. There was nothing he could do about it. Warren felt powerless.

Frank turned to Chloe. “You have until Friday to pay me. I’ll find you if you don’t.” He walked away, leaving the whales forgotten.

“Fuck,” Chloe said under her breath. “Come on, let’s go.”

Warren hesitated, but followed her, also leaving the dying whales behind. “What was that all about?” He asked.

“My life’s a shithole, that’s what. I’ll tell you on the way to Blackwell. You said you would help me. Did you mean it?”

 _Not really,_ Warren thought. He only said it to save his own skin when Frank had a knife on them and to calm him down. But honestly, Frank was a really scary guy. He couldn’t, with his good conscience, leave Chloe to deal with that alone. It couldn’t be that much, could it? 

“Yeah, sure. How much do you owe him?”

“Three thousand dollars.” 

Okay, so maybe it _was_ that much. “Yikes. What do you owe him for?”

“That’s none of your business.” Warren had been hearing that an awful lot lately.

“Fair enough.”

“Come on, let’s roll. We got a room to investigate.”

ooo

On the way to the school Chloe covered the basics. Frank and her used to hang together, but they had a falling out, now she owes him money. She said he was a drug dealer which made Warren reconsider his choice in company until he remembered that he was doing it for Max. He told Chloe that he couldn’t picture her and Max being friends which set her off and they spent the rest of the ride in uncomfortable silence.

Once they pulled up to the school, Warren practically leapt out of the car. Chloe followed him into the girl’s dorms, glaring at everybody that looked at her wrong. 

“Welp, this is it,” said Warren, standing in front of Max’s door. He knocked on the wood. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Chloe looked annoyed. “Seriously? Did you just knock on the door?”

Warren looked at her sheepishly. “I was kinda hoping I’d been overreacting about everything and she would answer.”

Chloe didn’t say anything to that. 

“So, how do we get in?”

“Step aside,” Chloe lightly pushed him out of the way and pulled out a pair of tools from her back pocket.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?”

“Damn right. I’ll open this bad boy in seconds.” She knelt down and got to work.

 

Minutes passed and Chloe was still fiddling with the lock. Warren shifted nervously from foot to foot, glancing around. It was the middle of the day, anybody could pass by them any minute. Chloe cursed under her breath.

“You good there?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ll get it to work, just give me a minute.”

“You said it’ll only take you seconds.”

“It’s harder than it looks,” she muttered.

“Let me try,” Warren offered.

“You know how to pick locks?”

“I’ve dabbled.”

She stood up and tossed him the fine tools. “Suit yourself.”

Warren knelt down in front of the knob and got to work.

 

More minutes passed and Warren’s fingers ached and the door _still wasn’t unlocked._ Disgruntled, he tossed the tools aside and glared at the knob.

 _“You good there?”_ Chloe mimicked him.

“There’s something wrong with it,” Warren said.

“I think you’re just bad at it,” she teased.

“Speak for yourself.”

“What are you doing?” Warren and Chloe both jumped as a voice called behind them.

Warren turned around and saw Brooke’s unexpressive gaze looking down at him.

“Brooke!” He got up hastily, hiding the lockpick tools behind his back. “Hi! I, uh, what’s up?”

“Just inquiring what you’re doing to Maxine’s door,” she said, gesturing at it.

No sense in hiding, then. He showed her the lockpicking kit. “I’m trying to get in. You haven’t seen Max, have you?”

“Not for a while, but she really doesn’t make an impression so I could’ve just missed her.”

“Uh-huh.” Max didn’t make an impression? Warren disagreed. But then again, he was a little biased. “You wouldn’t know how to pick a lock, would you?”

“No, I got something better than that.” Then Brooke did the unthinkable. She walked up to the door, turned the handle, and opened it. Warren and Chloe stood there with hanging jaws, dumbstruck. Brooke turned towards them, face blank as ever. “She never locks her door. It’s like she’s asking someone to abduct all her possessions.” 

Warren bent down and picked Brooke up in a massive bear hug, spinning as he squeezed. “Thanks, Brooke! You’re the best.” 

He set her down gingerly and she swayed on her feet. Her face was red as a beet. 

“Yeah, um, l-later, Warren,” she stuttered and walked briskly to her room. Warren didn’t think he’d ever see Brooke stumbling over her words. Maybe she was sick. He felt bad about the hug.

Chloe kicked the door open. “Alright then, loverboy, let’s go check this shit out.”

“Right behind ya.”

 

Chloe whistled as she walked in the room, taking in everything. Warren always liked Max’s room, not that he spent a lot of time in it anyway. It was very warm and cozy, and it smelled just like her. Okay, that sounded creepy. Warren wondered if there was anyone around with mind reading powers.

“Yep. Same old Max. She hasn’t changed a bit,” Chloe said wistfully. 

“What was she like?” Warren asked.

“Shy, but she was a blast once you got to know her better. She wanted to be a photographer and kept taking pictures with my dad’s old camera. She was also the nosiest person I’ve ever met. Still loved her, though.”

Warren nodded. “Yeah, that’s Max.”

She stepped closer to the mural of photographs Max had taken over the years. “These are really good. At least one of us achieved our goals.”

Already knowing where this was going, Warren steered the conversation to safer waters. “Let’s look around.”

ooo

Warren and Chloe nearly turned the room inside out by the time they were done. Chloe kept getting distracted, often staring at random memorabilia for longer than necessary and Warren had to snap her out of it. In the end, they hadn’t found anything. Warren was sitting cross-legged on the floor and Chloe was still looking around, rifling through her end table.

“Look, this book says ‘Kate Marsh’ on the label. Do you think that means anything?” She handed him the book.

“Oh right. The day Kate died she said she had to ask Max for a book she lent.” He checked inside the cover, finding a library tag. Kate probably wanted to return it before she died. The thought made his heart ache.

“She’s the one that killed herself?”

“Yeah.”

They fell into somber silence as they put Max’s belongings where they found them. That reminded him…

“Hey, did you see a green USB around here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“It’s mine. I lent it to her last week to watch some movies I downloaded.”

Chloe shifted some items on a box, looking for it. “Nope. Not here.”

Weird. Did Max take it with her?

He mourned the loss of his flash drive, but mourned the loss of his friend even more. There were bigger things to worry about than a few pirated movies.

“Well, this was a waste of time,” said Chloe, kicking the box away.

“We’re just looking at the wrong place, that’s all.”

“We should look into Rachel. If we find her, we find Max, right?” Chloe suggested a little too eagerly.

“The police couldn’t find anything about her, though,” Warren pointed out.

“They were looking at the wrong places too. I’ll find out what I can about what Frank knows. That bastard did something to her, I know it.”

“Don’t get carried away,” he warned, remembering the gun incident.

“I won’t. Anyway, I’ll give you my number. Contact me if you find out anything.” She took Warren’s phone and entered her digits. He texted her so she could have his number. Then she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

 

Alone in Max’s room, Warren let out a melancholic sigh. So much for that. He was really hoping he was wrong about the whole thing. He supposed it was official. Max was gone. Best case scenario, she left town for a while. Worst case… He really, really didn’t want to think about it.

They had only known each other for three weeks, but Max was Warren’s best friend. He didn’t have that any friends besides Stella, Alyssa, and Brooke, and he’d known them for as long as he knew Max. Before that, he didn’t have anyone. At his high school, everybody picked on him for being a beta nerd and even the few geeks he did hang around didn’t really like him. Their relationship was very shallow and never went beyond talking about _Star Trek_ or _Mass Effect._ They didn’t even like real science, the posers.

He could talk to Max about anything and she would listen. Sure, he came on too strong at first, but they fell into a routine and he learned that just because she sometimes didn’t reply to his texts didn’t mean she was ignoring him. And, yes, he had a _massive_ crush on her, but to be honest, he would be perfectly content just being her friend. He didn’t want to go back to life without her.

Warren picked himself up from the floor, using a plant pot to hoist himself up. The plant looked a little dry, he noted. He grabbed a half-full water bottle sitting at her desk and he poured it over the soil. The least he could do was housesit her plant while Max was gone.

ooo

On the way back to the boy’s dormitory, he found Mr. Jefferson speaking with a student. He decided that it was time he finally told an adult about Max. Mr. Jefferson looked up when he saw Warren approaching, and dismissed the student. Warren didn’t take any classes with him, but Max looked up to the famous photographer. And if Warren found out if she attended his class the day she disappeared, he’d have a more accurate time slot. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Mr. Jefferson.” Warren felt a bit awkward talking to him since he never took any classes with him and doesn’t know him very well, aside from word of mouth. But Warren was always good with teachers. “I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

“Sure, ask away.”

“Did Max attend your class yesterday?” Warren asked.

“She didn’t, actually. Why do you ask?”

Warren ignored the question. “What about the day before?”

“She was at class that day. Did something happen?” 

Warren took a deep breath and told him. “I haven’t seen or heard from her since then. Nobody has. I think she’s missing.”

Mr. Jefferson frowned in concern. “Are you sure? This is a very serious claim.”

“I’m sure. I think something happened to her.”

“Come with me. We’ll talk to Principal Wells about this.”

 

Warren followed Mr. Jefferson to the Principal’s office and waited outside while he briefed him in. After about a minute, he was waved in by the teacher. 

The Principal’s office was broad and spacious with bookcases and shelves covering the walls. There was a large window overlooking the school grounds behind his wooden desk. As for the Principal himself, he was seated at the desk, his elbows over the wood and his fingers intertwined with each other.Warren could tell by the bags under his eyes and the crinkles in his suit that he was stressed out and exhausted. He almost felt guilty for bringing in more burdens.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham,” said Principal Wells. Warren experienced a bit of deja-vu. 

“Good afternoon.”

“Have a seat,” he motioned to the empty chairs in front of him and Warren sat down. “Mr. Jefferson says that you have some important information concerning a student. Care to share?”

“Yes, sir. It’s Max Caulfield. I think she’s missing.”

There was a long pause in the conversation as the Principal digested the information. Once he did he frowned deeply, breathing out through his nose. When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I see. What makes you say that?”

“Nobody has seen her since Monday afternoon. I’ve called and texted her but she doesn’t answer. If she went somewhere, she didn’t tell anyone. I’m really worried.”

Principal Wells rubbed at his temples, eyes shut. “And you’re _sure_ about this?” He asked.

Jefferson stepped in. “I already gave him the talk. He’s sure she’s missing and understands the gravity of the situation.”

“Very well. I will contact the local police and file a missing person’s. Then, I will call Ms. Caulfield’s parents. The police might want to ask you some questions, is that alright with you?”

Warren nodded. “Yeah. Anything to find Max.”

“Of course. You’re dismissed.” Principal Wells swivelled his chair and punched 9-1-1 on the phone. Mr. Jefferson opened the door for Warren.

Before the door closed behind him, Warren thought he heard the Principal’s defeated voice. “... I need a drink.”

 

So, it was official. _Official_ official. Max was now considered a missing person. Warren felt like he was supposed to feel more relaxed to know that the police was going to take over, but knowing they were involved and doing a full-fledged investigation made the situation much more real. 

He still didn’t know anything. Not even a single clue. He had no idea how Nathan played into Max’s disappearance, if he had anything to do with it. Frank was a more likely suspect, considering Rachel, but even then he still didn’t know how he would get involved. That and his time powers. Warren wanted to figure them out and try to work out an explanation. If there was one thing comic books have taught him is that you didn’t get superpowers out of nowhere and that they didn’t come with consequences.

His stomach growled as he was leaving the building and Warren realized that he hadn’t slept or eaten anything since yesterday. Daydreaming about eating a large hamburger with extra bacon and a side of cheese fries, he realized he had forgotten one thing.

He left his car at the Two Whales’.

_Goddamnit._


	5. Cyanide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! These chapters keep getting longer and longer; I'm trying to fix that, hopefully. 
> 
> In other news, Exposure has its first fanart, [an amazing piece](http://moremakoharu.tumblr.com/post/136982500374/exposure-from-gunophilia-is-the-best-fanfic-out) from [BruceWayne](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BruceWayne/pseuds/BruceWayne)!

_October 10_

Warmth rolled through Nathan’s body like a wave, expelling the freezing cold that had clung to him from the chilly night air. A silent sigh escaped between his lips. It was a little past midnight, way beyond school hours, but he received the message from Jefferson telling him to go to the art room just a few minutes ago.

When Jefferson asked for his input in the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest, Nathan could scarcely believe it. His mentor had been very distant towards him up until a few weeks ago. He didn’t know what triggered it, what he could have done wrong, and Jefferson never bothered to give him an explanation. That was, until the suspense caught up to Nathan one day.

It was a mistake. Nathan was sure that if he hadn’t fucked up before, he’d fucked it up then. Coke impaired his judgement and he marched up straight to Jefferson in the middle of the school hallway, pushing aside some unfortunate student, and began demanding answers. Aware that they were being watched, Jefferson played it off by walking Nathan to the Principal’s office. Once they were away from prying eyes, he shoved Nathan through the main school doors and told him to ‘cool off’ or else he was going to cut him loose before slamming the doors on his face.

Nathan panicked. He decided to take matters into his own hands and prove that they could still work together, but he fucked that up so badly it came back to bite him in the ass. Fuckin’ Chloe.

As it turned out, a few days later Jefferson asked to meet him at the barn and they set up a new project together. Jefferson had forgiven him, and Nathan couldn’t have been more relieved. 

Nathan took a deep breath and stepped inside the classroom. 

Jefferson was standing by his desk, putting some folders away in a small briefcase. The only light in the room was the bright glow of the computer screen. The door creaked as Nathan pushed it open. Jefferson looked up at the sound. His lips stretched out in a warm smile. “You made it. Sorry it’s so late, I just finished making some corrections to the schedule. Since there weren’t any classes today I had to arrange my lessons so they would be faithful to the syllabus.”

Nathan shrugged and sat at the table in front of the classroom. “It’s cool.”

“Allow me to set up the projector so we can get started,” Jefferson said, leaning over the computer. “It’s such a shame Max didn’t enter her photograph,” he mused. “She’s very talented, I’m sure her entry would have been a valuable contribution to Blackwell.”

Nathan scoffed. “Knowing her, she would have entered a selfie.”

 _“Self-portrait,”_ Jefferson harshly corrected. “And I have more faith in her abilities than that.”

“Whatever.” Nathan didn’t get his mentor’s obsession with Max Caulfield. Frankly, he couldn’t care less about her.

“Can you turn it on?” Jefferson asked, pointing to the projector above Nathan.

Nathan wordlessly climbed on the table, pressing the power button on the projector and waiting for the light to turn green. Once it did, a flash of light illuminated the board on the front of the room and displayed the first entry. 

Jefferson pulled up two chairs and took a seat in front of the projection. Nathan got down and sat next to him, peering up at the image.

“This first entry is by Courtney Wagner. What do you think?” Jefferson asked.

Nathan’s eyes scanned the picture. It was _okay._ Nothing special. Took the ‘Everyday Heroes’ theme too literally, just a bunch of firemen standing in front of their truck grinning. A dalmatian sat in front of them, not looking at the camera. 

“It’s pretty basic. There’s no filter, and nothing that really attracts the eye. It doesn’t even use any composition techniques. Maybe if they were putting out a fire or saving a kitten or something, then the picture would be a lot more appealing. There’s not much to critique. It’s kinda boring,” Nathan said, leaning back on his seat and looking at Jefferson from the corner of his eye, trying to garner an expression.

“I’m also disappointed by Courtney’s entry. There were many things she could have done so that the picture would have a lot more impact, and I would have gladly assisted her, but she didn’t come to me for help. She gave me her entry last-minute so I imagine she didn’t have much time to put together something better.”

Jefferson clicked a button in a small hand-held remote and the picture on the display changed. 

It was a portrait of a middle-aged woman, lying on her back with medical tubes up her nostrils. She was smiling weakly, her eyes were puffy and exhausted. This one used the rule of thirds, and the lighting came from a natural source filtering through a window. The subject’s face was bespeckled by leafy shadows.

“This is Taylor’s entry. Note the emotion and the impact that was lacking in the previous entry.”

If that was Taylor’s photo, the subject must have been her mother. Victoria told him she was ill and had recently undergone surgery. She didn’t elaborate what type of surgery it had been, only that it was a very risky procedure. 

“It’s very personal. I think that’s her mom; she went through surgery a few days ago,” Nathan said.

“Back surgery,” Jefferson added. “Very delicate, with a long recovery time. Taylor mentioned it to me, I suggested to take the opportunity to create a striking photograph of the situation. I can’t say this is what I had in mind, but regardless it’s a very good entry.”

 _No shit, you’re more into Eddie Adams or Dorothea Lange,_ Nathan thought. The photo was too hopeful for Jefferson’s tastes. He was probably hoping for a more macabre scene, the ugly truth of sickness. Blood and sutures and pain. 

Taylor didn’t see it that way though. “Personally, I would have waited for sunset to take the picture. You get better shadows that way,” Nathan said, preferring to comment on the technique rather than on the subject itself.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jefferson said, then clicked the button for the next slide.

 

It continued like that for the next half-hour. Some entries were disappointing and others were clear finalists. Nathan held his breath a familiar black-and-white photograph appeared on the screen.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you who this is,” Jefferson chuckled. “But I want to know what your thoughts were when you took the picture.”

Nathan knew he wasn’t going to win--that was his first thought--but not for lack of skill. The photograph was of an old man sitting at a bench, curled in on himself in obvious grief while delicately holding a lone flower; the rest of the bouquet sat trampled and crushed in front of his feet. Shadows of a dead tree played over his form and distorted the image, and in the background you could see nothing but a sea of endless graves. The photograph was in grayscale, Nathan’s preferred style.

“It wasn’t staged,” Nathan began, “I was in the cemetery, looking for inspiration and taking pictures of random tombstones. I heard him crying and saw the opportunity, so I sneaked up and took the photo when he wasn’t looking. The flash startled him, and he threatened to call the cops on me.”

Jefferson’s lip twitched in a smirk. “Did he?”

Nathan shrugged. “Not after he found out who I was.”

“This is a beautiful piece, Nathan. Your subject, the composition, the emotion. You have an eye for shadows.” Jefferson stood up and began pacing around the room, making gestures as if he was giving a lecture. His shadow covered the projection, and Nathan’s photograph shone brightly on his face. Nathan stared at him with rapt adoration. 

“Most people would have asked him if they could take the picture, and that’s where their fault lies. Once a subject knows they’re being watched, they become stiff. The photograph becomes unnatural. Staged. A true photographer knows exactly when to take the shot.” Jefferson stopped pacing, standing in front of Nathan, allowing him a small smile. “I congratulate you, Nathan. This is the best entry I have received among all my students and if it weren’t for obvious reasons I would have picked you as the winner.”

Nathan swallowed dryly, speechless. He was so unaccustomed to praise, so unused to the feeling of pride warming up his chest and clenching his throat. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and quiet. “Thanks.”

Jefferson’s smile grew, wide and almost genuine, as he returned to his seat next to Nathan. “This next one is by Stella…” 

They sat there for another half-hour, Nathan grinning stupidly as he continued to bask in the afterglow of his praise. He critiqued the rest of the entries, feeling giddy whenever Jefferson agreed or complimented him. 

His smile faltered when the projector showed the last entry.

“This last one is from Victoria Chase.”

Nathan had helped Victoria with the photograph. He helped set up the lights and kept moving the model around until they were satisfied with the final product. It was of a woman laying on a marble floor, her hair flowing smooth and tousled towards the camera. She was wearing a dress that was short at the front but had a long tail, which bled out on the cracks on the floor. The woman was upside down and the camera was tilted at a dutch angle, Nathan’s suggestion to make the picture more interesting.

They argued because Victoria wanted the picture in black and white, in an attempt to mimic Jefferson’s own style, but Nathan disagreed. Grayscale wasn’t Victoria’s strong point. In the end they compromised by having the image mostly desaturated, while the red remained untouched, standing out.

Guilt laced through his heart like a rope. Victoria wanted to win more than anything else, to prove that she was worthy enough of having her work showcased on a gallery and going on a trip to one of America’s biggest art hubs with a famous photographer. Nathan had the opportunity to give that to her, pick her as the winner and have her dreams come true, but he wouldn’t. Jefferson had talked about the trip, about what he had planned, how it could be one of his greatest projects yet. Nathan could never let Victoria go through that.

“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” Jefferson asked when Nathan didn’t comment.

“Yeah, it is,” Nathan said simply.

“Any input?”

“The light could have been better,” Nathan pointed out, struggling to find something negative to say about the entry. “Maybe something natural.”

“I like the light as it is. You can tell Victoria put a lot of effort into this entry. She went out of her comfort zone with the desaturation, and it paid off.”

“Mhm,” was all Nathan said.

Jefferson leaned back in his seat, looking at the picture appraisingly. “It’s a clear winner, don’t you think?”

Nathan snapped his head to look at Jefferson. “What?”

“The colors, the angle, the subject. I think Miss Chase has the skill to represent Blackwell. She has been very enthusiastic about going to San Francisco, I think she would appreciate the opportunity,” Jefferson said calmly, his eyes not leaving the projection.

Nathan’s heart stopped. This couldn’t be happening. “You can’t be serious.”

Jefferson hummed and turned his head towards Nathan. “Do you disagree?”

Nathan got on his feet, turning to face Jefferson, his heart beating a hundred miles per hour. Victoria couldn’t go to San Francisco. Nathan wouldn’t let her. “Of course I disagree! There are other girls you can choose from, why’d you gotta pick her?”

“Victoria believes she’s capable enough to go to San Francisco with me and I agree,” Jefferson said in that frustratingly calm voice.

He should have known not to trust Jefferson, he should have known. Nathan scratched at his arms and pulled his hair as his anxiety overpowered him. He yelled at the man, not being able to keep the panic and desperation out of his voice. “We had an agreement! You can’t choose Victoria!”

Jefferson, slowly, deliberately, stood up from his chair. He loomed over Nathan, who froze, paralyzed in fear. The projection glowed on Jefferson’s face, the red reflecting violently over his stoic features. Shadows cutting his bones sharp and threatening. When he spoke, his voice was like gravel, decisive and rough against Nathan’s ears, and he remembered why he was so afraid of Mark Jefferson.

“Find Max and I won’t have to.”

ooo

The cruel wind bit his cheeks as Nathan stumbled out of the building’s steps, breathing heavily through his reddening nose.

 _“MAX!”_ He yelled out into the night air, his breath revealing itself in white puffs. “Max! _Max!”_ He cupped his mouth with his hands to make his voice louder. “Max! Where are you, you stupid cunt! Come _on!”_

Jefferson made it clear that he had until the ‘Everyday Heroes’ announcement to find Max or else he was going to choose Victoria as his next subject.

“MAX!” Nathan had no plan, no leads. The stupid bitch could be dead and buried for all he knew and he still had to find her by nightfall, before the ‘End of the World’ party. That stupid fucking party. Nathan wished he never planned it in the first place. 

Nathan didn’t give a shit if anybody heard him. He was fucking desperate. It must’ve made quite a spectacle too, the rich kid screaming at nothing in the middle of the night. His father would _love_ to hear about that. 

His burner phone vibrated in his back pocket and Nathan fished it out with shaking hands.

**[Unknown, Today 2:03 AM]**

_Shut the fuck up._

Nathan practically growled at the text. His fingers typed his response faster than his brain could process it.

**[You, Today 2:03 AM]**

_fuckyoufuckyoufuckoyufuckoyufuckoyufuckyoufuckoyu_

His eyes pooled with angry tears and Nathan wiped them away before they could reach his cheeks. He tugged at his hair hard enough to pull away the strands. Did he take his pills today? He didn’t know, he didn’t fucking remember. He couldn’t remember any of his breathing exercises. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, _oh God he couldn’t breathe._

Nathan stumbled out of the courtyard, past the dormitories, way past the campus grounds. The air felt like daggers against his lungs as he hyperventilated. The tears were flowing freely now, threatening to freeze in place by the cold. He ran, blindly, to the one place he knew he could have a meltdown undisturbed.

His foot caught on an upturned root and Nathan fell hard on the forest floor, splitting his chin open and biting on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He snarled at the pain, getting up on all fours spitting out blood and saliva. He grabbed the root with his hands and tore it out of the ground with an angry shout. 

Nathan lifted himself on his feet and threw the root as far as he could before setting his sights on a massive tree nearby, mocking him. He seized a rock and threw it at the wood, growling when it didn’t so much as splinter. 

“Who the fuck does he think he is anyway,” Nathan said while looking for another rock to throw. “NOBODY tells me what to do. I’m Nathan fucking Prescott. I own this fucking piece of shit town and all of its fucking piece of shit residents.”

_You have an eye for shadows._

“Shut UP!” He screamed, his fingers closing on a sharp rock, its edges digging into his hands. He threw the rock with more force than the first one and it left a mark on the tree. 

_I’d like to take you in as my protégé. Just imagine what we could accomplish together._

Nathan found a dead, gnarled branch on the ground, picked it up, and began swinging it at the tree.

_I’m the only one that understands how you feel. You are not alone, Nathan. I’m here for you._

The branch split in two and Nathan could feel its splinters burying themselves into his palms. He gnashed his teeth at the pain, ripping out as many as he could with his dirt-covered fingernails. 

_A video?! You worthless piece of shit, this could ruin EVERYTHING I worked for!_

Nathan balled up his fists through the pain and delivered a swift, bloody punch to the trunk. 

_You were a mistake. I should have never taken you in._

Another and another. Nathan punched the tree over and over again until the only thing he could see through his tears was the red of his blood on the bark.

_You want to prove yourself? Fix it._

There was nothing in his mind but a lifetime of guilt and regret. 

_Perhaps you have potential as my pupil yet. You did good, Nathan._

He was crying openly now, tears and snot and blood dripping from his face. 

_Find Max and I won’t have to._

_“SHUT UP!”_ Nathan delivered a final blow and retracted his hand, curling his body inwards. His hand trembled and throbbed against his stomach. Every hard, uneven breath came painfully to him, like trying to breathe underwater.

 _Just count to ten,_ Nathan reminded himself. _Breathe._ He took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “Slowly. In and out. In and out.” He leaned his forehead against the tree he attacked, shutting his eyes in a vain attempt to get the tears to stop. After a few minutes his breath evened and his consciousness faded away into a deep sleep.

ooo

The sound of birds chirping and the prick of the bark digging at his cheek woke Nathan. His eyes wouldn’t open at first, the unshed tears had solidified into a crust and he had to pry them open with his hands. Once he did, he almost panicked at waking up somewhere unfamiliar, but soon remembered the previous night.

Not all of it, though. He remembered Jefferson’s threat and running blindly into the forest. Everything after that felt like a drunken haze. If it weren’t for his throbbing chin and knuckles, he might have thought he hallucinated it all. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Then an ugly reminder reared its head: he had until tonight to find Max. 

What time was it? The sun was peeking through the trees, so it had to be morning. _Please don’t let it be later than that,_ Nathan prayed. He hissed in pain as he shoved his bloodied hand to his pants pocket to fish out his phone, then winced as the brightness of the screen overwhelmed his eyes.

10:12 AM. It was a lot later than he was used to waking up to. Nathan stood up slowly, his bones popping and cracking at every movement. His joints had locked up from the cold. Even with all those hours of sleep, his body was still exhausted. He dared to look at his knuckles and winced when he saw the shape they were in. His hands were caked with dirt and dried blood, not an inch of skin was visible. He stretched his fingers, groaning at the pain, but relieved that his bones were uninjured. There were pieces of bark sticking out at some places, but he would take care of that later.

Finding the trail which led him to the forest, Nathan stumbled and limped his way to Blackwell.

 _Holy shit, there are cops everywhere,_ was Nathan’s first thought upon reaching the premises. It seemed someone finally noticed Max was gone, but it was never this bad when Rachel Amber disappeared. Maybe they finally started taking shit seriously the second time.

Nathan looked down at his unsightly and rather offensive appearance. If anybody saw him like this, all mud and blood, he’d probably be at the top of the suspect list. He looked like he just buried a corpse with his bare hands. 

The investigators were mostly crowding the girls’ dormitory, so all he had to do was sneak past them and the students and the faculty and he’d be home free. Fantastic. At least they didn’t have any dogs. Nathan hid with his back pressed behind the giant tobanga statue, peeking around it occasionally to check if the coast was clear. Once it was, he made a beeline to the boys’ dormitory. 

 

The hallways were empty, save for anybody that might be holed up in their room, despite it being a school day. He walked to the bathroom and refused to look at the mirror. 

Leaning over the sink, he scrubbed his hands of all the muck, pulling splinters away with his fingernails. He hissed when cleaning his knuckles, under the blood there were dark bruises and a deep wound. Most of it had scabbed over during the night, a black crust covering it all the way up to the middle of his fingers, where he made impact with the bark. He hoped he wouldn’t need stitches for that.

Nathan jumped when he heard a gasp behind him, immediately snapping his head up to look through the mirror. Hayden stood at the door, his hand on the knob and the other one holding a shower basket. Fuckin’ great. So much for privacy. Nathan growled in annoyance.

“Nathan, are you okay?” Hayden’s honey-smooth voice echoed in the bathroom. It calmed Nathan’s nerves a little.

Nathan shrugged, lowering his gaze to the sink. “I’m whatever.”

“You look terrible.”

“You’re no prize yourself, sweetheart.”

“Have you looked in the mirror? You look like you wrestled a bear and lost.”

At this, Nathan did look up into the mirror. His eyes widened at his reflection. His usually well-kept hair was a complete disaster with leaves and twigs sticking out of it, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, his lips were fucking _blue,_ and he had dried blood running from his chin down to his throat. It was worse than he thought.

“Rough night,” he said coolly. 

Looking through the mirror, Nathan followed Hayden’s eyes where they traveled down to his knuckles. Cue the reaction.

Hayden hissed, just as Nathan knew he would, and said, “Rough is an understatement. Did you clean that at all? That could get infected.”

“I’m _fine,_ Hayden. I don’t need your help.”

“Wait there,” Hayden said, then left the bathroom. 

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I’ve had this for hours, if it could’ve gotten infected, it would have by now,” he called out after him. 

Nathan splashed warm water on his face and began scrubbing his chin and throat, the water coming out a diluted red. He pulled the twigs and leaves out of his hair, flicking them onto the bathroom floor. Hayden returned a few seconds later with a first aid kit. Nathan scrunched his nose at the sight.

Hayden sighed, holding out the kit between them. “I'm not going to force you to do this if you don't want to, but you need to rub some alcohol into that.”

Nathan pushed the kit away. “No way. I told you, I’m _fine.”_

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’ll be worse if it gets infected. You might not be able to use your hands anymore.”

Nathan frowned before grudgingly taking the kit from Hayden. Bandages, gauzes, tweezers, cotton, alcohol, aspirins, and other medical shit were packaged neatly into the box. Nathan stared at the contents blankly. “So. What do I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m an artist, not a doctor.”

“How the fuck am _I_ supposed to know, then?”

“Give me your hand.”

“Fuck no.”

“I don’t bite, I just want to look at it.”

After some hesitation, Nathan warily showed Hayden the palm of his hand. He tutted, turning Nathan’s hand over and inspecting it. “You have some splinters dug in there pretty deep. Do you mind?” Hayden asked, holding a pair of tweezers between his fingers.

“I can do it myself,” said Nathan, taking his hand from Hayden’s gentle grasp.

“Alright. Go for it,” Hayden offered the tweezers to Nathan.

Nathan took them, squinting under the dim light of the bathroom to make sure he did this correctly. Hayden seemed to have noticed his problem and took out his cellphone and flashed the light on Nathan’s palm. Nathan grumbled something that sounded like ‘thanks’. 

He tediously plucked all of the tiny splinters and pebbles imbedded in his skin, clenching his lips between his teeth to try to keep himself from yelping in pain. Hayden patiently held the screen of his phone over his hand, not being able to keep himself from wincing every time Nathan pulled on something particularly painful.

After he was done, Nathan ran his hands under the tap and scrubbed it with the cheap hand soap the bathroom provided. Hayden drenched a cotton ball with alcohol and offered it to Nathan, who made a face as he took it. 

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch, isn’t it?” Nathan said, glaring at the cotton distastefully.

“Only one way to find out, bro.”

Nathan took a deep breath and lightly swabbed his wounds with it. 

“Mother _fucker!”_ He cried out, nearly dropping the cotton ball as the wave of pain rolled over. His hand burned like nothing else but he wasn’t going to cry about it in front of Hayden.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

“God fucking--” Nathan cursed under his breath as he continued rubbing the alcohol over the cuts until he couldn’t take it anymore and decided to call it a day. “There. It’s clean. Happy now?”

“You still have your knuckles and chin to deal with. You know, you should really just go to the nurse. You might need stitches.”

“No nurse, no stitches,” was Nathan’s curt reply. He angled his head to look at his chin from the mirror. It scabbed over so he wasn’t actively bleeding. “Welp, looks like it healed itself. Nature’s a miracle worker, am I right?”

But he wasn’t getting off that easy. “It probably scabbed over dirt and rocks and who knows what else. If it’s infected, you’re fucked,” Hayden pointed out.

“I thought you said you weren’t a doctor.”

“It’s common sense.”

Nathan gave an exasperated sigh. He’d hurt himself before, but never this bad. Not bad enough that slapping a band-aid or an ice pack over the wound wouldn’t fix it. Without saying a word, Nathan brought his fingers up and picked at the scab until it came off completely. It hurt, but not as much as what was coming next.

He cleaned the wound and thoroughly as he could with the soap, before repeating the awful torment with the cotton ball. He held the ball against the underside of his chin until the bleeding thinned before digging into the first aid kit to look for a bandage.

“You’re gonna need more than a band-aid for that,” said Hayden.

Nathan just shrugged and carefully taped the adhesive on. It worked for now-- he wasn’t bleeding all over the place. Now for the knuckles.

Out of all his injuries, they were the worst. It was a wonder he didn’t break anything. There were dark bruises mottled all over the back of his hand, from his fingers to his knuckles and even a bit beyond that. Like his chin, the gashes on each of his knuckles had scabbed over, which meant he had to rip them off. _Goddamnit._

He did, slowly, which probably made it worse. Every time he pulled a scab off, blood would freely flow from the wound, covering his fingertips in blood and making it more slippery and thus, harder to get the rest of them out.

“You know,” Hayden spoke up, “this would be a great photo opportunity.”

“Does it look like I can hold a camera right now?”

“I could take it, if you want,” Hayden offered.

Hayden was absolutely right, but surprise, surprise, Nathan didn’t feel like thinking about photography right now. Had it been any other moment, with any other reason for the meltdown, Nathan would have totally gone for it. The gore and dim lighting went perfectly with his theme. However, Nathan couldn’t stomach the thought of having a physical tie to this moment. _You should have just taken the picture without asking,_ he mentally scolded Hayden.

“No, thanks. I just want to get this over with,” Nathan admitted, then pulled the final scab with a hiss. 

“As you wish.”

Blood was dripping from his hands to the tiles of the bathroom floor. It hurt like a bastard, and his hands were shaking as he turned on the tap and rinsed his wound. 

Hayden spoke up as Nathan coated a clean cotton ball in alcohol again. “There’s a faster way to do this, I think.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

“It probably hurts more. Also, I’m not sure it works as well.”

“Who gives a shit?”

Nathan let Hayden take his hands and guide them over the sink, then he uncapped the bottle of alcohol and Nathan knew what he was going to do. 

“Last chance,” Hayden warned.

“Do it,” Nathan said, shutting his eyes.

Hayden poured the contents of the bottle into Nathan’s hands and Nathan couldn’t stop himself from screaming. His hands shook uncontrollably from the pain and he bit his lip roughly to try and distract himself from the burning sensation.

“There. That’s fine. All gone,” Hayden raised the empty bottle of alcohol and his free hand in what Nathan supposed was a calming gesture.

“Mother...fuck,” Nathan whimpered.

“It’s done. We just gotta bandage it, okay?”

Nathan nodded, allowing Hayden to take his hand and wrap a thick gauze around it. When he was done, Nathan couldn’t move his fingers. It was like a mitten.

“What the fuck?” He said.

“What? Hayden asked.

“I look like a mummy.”

“I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how to bandage a wound.”

“Just get some band-aids or something.”

“That’s not going to work.”

Nathan dug through the first aid kit with his uncovered hand and pulled out a thin roller bandage. “What about this? Cut it and wrap it around my fingers.”

“Whatever you say, Nate,” Hayden did as he was told, taking a pair of scissors out and cutting through the cotton unevenly with a small pair of scissors they found inside the kit. Nathan unwrapped his bandaged hand and held it out with his fingers extended, ignoring the pain stretching his fingers brought.

Hayden meticulously wrapped Nathan’s individual fingers, stopping at the joint where the wound ended. When he was sure they were secured and free to move, he placed small bandages on the areas where he couldn’t cover it with the gauze. “There,” he said, patting Nathan’s bandaged hands, “you’re done.”

“Can you reach into my pocket for me?” Nathan asked.

Hayden didn’t even look suspicious or annoyed, he just asked, “Which one?”

“Front right.”

Hayden did, pulling out a thin wallet and giving it to Nathan. Nathan opened it and took out a hundred dollar bill, handing it over to Hayden. “Here.”

Hayden refused it. “Thanks for the offer, man, but I’m good. I was just helping.”

Nathan frowned, not relenting. “Take it.”

“I said no, thank you.”

Nathan ground his teeth. He was getting annoyed. What was it with this guy? Was Prescott money not good enough for him? “You’re going to take it. You’re going to spend it, and you’re going to like it.”

“Nathan, I don’t need--”

He shoved the bill against Hayden’s chest. “Just take it, Hayden, or I swear to God.”

Hayden pursed his lips and sighed, finally taking the money. He shoved it in his pocket like it was this huge burden instead of hard cash. “Someday you’ll understand that not everybody has an ulterior motive, Nate.” He took his shower basket and walked into one of the shower stalls. “You should clean yourself up, you still look like shit,” he said before closing the curtain. 

“Whatever,” Nathan said. 

The sound of running water and the warmth of the steam coming from from the stall soon enveloped the bathroom. Nathan eyed the showers distastefully, he definitely wasn’t going to shower with anyone else in there. He left the first aid kit where it was; Hayden could take care of that later, and he left the bathroom.

An analog clock at the far end of the hallway told him an hour and a half had passed since he last checked. He shouldn’t be wasting so much fucking time. He only had until 8:00 to find that stupid bitch. Still, he fucking reeked, so he decided to make a quick stop in his room and change.

Discarding his red varsity and all of his underclothes, he chose to wear a simple longsleeved navy blue t-shirt with a black jacket thrown on top for an extra layer. He zipped it up partway, for no reason other than it made him feel more secure. Whatever, it didn’t have to make sense. He made a mental checklist of how much taking his dirty clothes to the laundromat was going to cost him and idly wondered if Victoria had taken her clothes there yet so she could take his while she was at it. 

He instinctively ran his fingers through his hair, only to have them snag on a knot. He grimaced. Dirt and grease coated his hair and Nathan wanted desperately to wash it. But he didn't have the time for that so the most he did was run a brush through it and hope for the best. It lay on his head like a gross flat mess. He didn't even bother styling it. 

Out of all the outcomes he would have expected from today, waking up in the forest floor injured and stressed only to have to race against time to find a girl who may or may not be dead, was surprisingly not even that low on the list. His life was a clusterfuck and he knew it. 

After some deliberation, Nathan decided to take his gun. 

Yeah, with all the cops everywhere interrogating students it might _seem_ like a bad idea, but Nathan was too tired to think about any repercussions. 

Nathan stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. He had less than eight hours to find Caulfield, if only he knew where to start--

_“Nathan Prescott to the Principal’s office, I repeat, Nathan Prescott to the Principal’s office.”_

Motherfucker.

ooo

He almost didn’t go. Nathan had been halfway to the parking lot before deciding that not showing up might make him seem suspicious. Whatever Wells had to say to him couldn’t be _that_ important. Unless he really was a suspect in Max’s disappearance. Not that it made sense, he barely knew her. He opened the door to the Principal’s office impatiently, not waiting for the secretary to give him the OK.

Breathing in the smell of old books and desperation, he sauntered into the room like he owned the place. According to a banner on the far wall with the Prescott family crest, he did. Wells didn’t look up at his entrance, expecting nothing else from Nathan. He took a seat at the usual armchair in front of Wells’s desk and groaned as his muscles relaxed, feeling the most comfortable he’d been in almost twelve hours. 

Nathan had been here so often he could’ve sworn that the cushion on the chair was shaped like his ass.

When Wells finished whatteverthefuck he was doing, he looked up at him. Nathan saw his eyes widen a fraction and he knew Wells noticed how fucked up he was. 

Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and fixed a polite smile. “Good morning, Mr. Prescott.”

“What’d you want?” Nathan didn’t have time to deal with Wells’s ass kissing.

Wells, of course, didn’t catch on. He intertwined his fingers and laid his elbows on his desk. He looked at Nathan up and down, his lips pursing with either disapproval or second-hand pain, but was polite enough not to say anything. At least, not anything direct. “How’s your therapy going?” He asked instead.

Nathan rolled his eyes and slouched in his seat. “You didn’t call to ask about my therapy.”

The corner of Wells’s eye twitched and he leaned back in his seat, resting his hands on his lap. His lips stretched in a forced smile. “The safety of my students is my main concern and that includes their mental health.”

“My mental health is just _peachy,_ thank you for asking.” 

Nathan watched as Wells’s twitched, faltered, then dissolved completely. His brow closed in on a tired frown, casting shadows over his eyes that only accentuated the dark circles underneath them. His shoulders slumped. He was finally done with pretenses. Now if he could only get to the point.

“I called you here to inform you that in light of recent events, I feel it would be best if tonight’s party was cancelled.”

A hot surge of anger flared inside Nathan’s chest, traveling up to his throat. _“What?”_

Wells brought up his hands in a placating gesture, “I know this must be disappointing for you to hear, but my staff is stretched thin already--”

There was a loud _bang!_ as the chair Nathan sat on was knocked over when he stood so abruptly. The Principal’s eyes widened in surprise or fear, which is exactly how they should be when facing a Prescott. “Who gives a shit about your staff? We’ve been planning this for weeks! Now you want to cancel it over some girl who’s probably dead?” Nathan’s body trembled in sheer rage as he kicked his chair aside.

“Mr. Prescott--” Wells began, but Nathan interrupted him.

“Didn’t you and my father already talk about this after what happened with that whore, Kate? Didn’t he threaten to cut off his hefty donations to this shithole? Do you _want_ to lose your job?”

“This is--” Wells attempted to speak over him, but Nathan’s voice was louder, echoing in all corners of the office.

“When my father hears about this you’re going to wish you never even step foot in this office because he is going to make your life a living--”

“Enough!” Wells slammed his hands on the desk hard enough to make Nathan jump. With a high-pitched scrape of the chair he stood and loomed over his desk, the light pouring through the window behind him casting a threatening shadow over Nathan, who stood frozen in place. Wells’s nostrils flared and if he ground his teeth any harder, he would break them. He spoke through clenched teeth. “I refuse to be bullied by the Prescotts any longer! A girl is dead and two of them are missing. There are bigger things happening than a teenager’s party! For the final time, this is non-negotiable. If you can’t understand that I will have no choice but to expel you. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Prescott?” He accentuated this by slamming his fist on the desk again.

Nathan’s heart beat a mile a minute. His head felt like he had been dunked in ice-cold water. His fight-or-flight response had been activated and all he could do was stand there like a deer staring down a lion. 

But then first conscious, intelligent thought wormed its way through the red mist of Nathan’s brain.

“What about the contest?” He asked, more to the floor than to Wells.

“What _about_ the contest?” Wells asked, clearly still pissed. Realizing that his words still had a bite, he clamped his mouth shut and straightened his tie. He slowly sat back in his chair, back erect and hands folded in front of him, like he could just pretend none of this ever happened. Nathan fully expected to receive a wordy apology email tonight. 

“Is that cancelled too?” 

“No,” Wells replied, dashing Nathan’s hopes, “the contest is still happening, a winner is being chosen and going to San Francisco with Mark, as scheduled.”

“But when are they going to choose the winner, if the party is cancelled?”

After a pause, Wells exhaled through his nose and rubbed at his temples with his fingertips. It seemed he had forgotten about that detail. He pondered for a few seconds before straightening himself again and declaring, “He’ll make the announcement tomorrow night during the football game. I'll talk to Mr. Jefferson and Coach Phillips about it later. Nice try, but your party is still not happening.”

Tomorrow night. Jefferson said he had until the announcement to find Max. It wasn’t much but he would take what he could get.

“Okay,” Nathan said simply.

Wells raised a single eyebrow. “Okay?” 

“Yeah, totally. I get it. You can't have a party with all the shit that's been going on. I understand.”

“You _understand.”_ Wells stated, the word laced with doubt and suspicion. Nathan didn’t blame him. Thirty seconds ago he’d been ready to thrash the room.

“Yeap. Absolutely. Sorry about my outburst earlier. That was childish and won't happen again.” Nathan said, righting the chair he knocked over. “I’ll let myself out.”

Wells let out a relieved sigh, leaning back on his chair. “Fine, Mr. Prescott. You are dismissed.”

Nathan decided he wouldn't tell his father about this. Wells unknowingly bought him a lot more time and for that Nathan was grateful, even if it did mean cancelling the party.

_You so owe me one after this, Victoria._

ooo

He lost twenty-five minutes to that conversation. It was already noon and he hadn’t even began looking. At this rate, Max was going to die of old age. Unfortunately, Nathan _still_ had no idea where to look.

Her dorm was out of the question. It looked like a murder scene, not at all how it was when Rachel went missing. He could almost picture the chalk-outline among the yellow tape and the little flags around her room marked as ‘EVIDENCE’. As it was, there was no way Nathan was stepping foot in that building with all the investigators around. On his way to the parking lot he accidentally made eye contact with Officer Berry, who frowned and crossed his arms. Nathan walked a little faster after that.

He sat in his car for a while, the hum of the motor relaxing him almost to the point of sleep. But he couldn’t sleep, not with a timer slowly ticking in the back of his skull. Nathan forced himself awake and drove out of campus.

Without a destination in mind, his driving was mostly automatic with his mind wandering elsewhere. 

Max was a new student, only having shown up at Arcadia Bay four weeks ago. She was quiet; didn’t have many friends. Except Kate, apparently, but she was dead. Dana might’ve been on friendly terms but she wasn’t much help. Oh, and that dweeb Warren, but he seemed just as confused as anyone. 

Nathan felt a small vibration in his pants pocket and he cursed as the rough texture of his jeans scraped with his bandaged wound. 

**[Victoria, Today 12:19 PM]**

_really nervous bout tonite :x_

Right, the party. He forgot to tell Victoria--and anyone else, really--that it wasn’t happening. Nathan struggled to reply, choosing to text more than drive.

**[You, Today 12:20 PM]**

_dont be wells cancelled the party_

**[Victoria, Today 12:20 PM]**

_WHAT_

**[Victoria, Today 12:20 PM]**

_HE CANT DO THAT_

**[Victoria, Today 12:20 PM]**

_WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, WEVE BEEN PLANNING THIS FOR DAYS_

**[Victoria, Today 12:20 PM]**

_WHY. >=[_

**[You, Today 12:20 PM]**

_something bout that bitch Caulfield bein missing_

**[Victoria, Today 12:21 PM]**

_DX !!!_

**[Victoria, Today 12:22 PM]**

_What about the contest??? Did he cancel that too??_

**[You, Today 12:22 PM]**

_no, the contest is stil on but jefferson is going to say the winner tomorow at the game_

**[Victoria, Today 12:22 PM]**

_Ugh, Im so fucking nervous you have no idea…_

**[Victoria, Today 12:22 PM]**

_Idk what I'm going to do if I don't win_

**[Victoria, Today 12:22 PM]**

_I'll pull a Kate or something_

**[You, Today 12:22 PM]**

_Victoria no_

**[Victoria, Today 12:23 PM]**

_Im joking._

**[Victoria, Today 12:23 PM]**

_Did you tell your dad.?_

**[You, Today 12:23 PM]**

_wells said he “refuses to be bullied by the prescotts anymore” like whatthefuckever  
like we dnt own this fukin town_

**[Victoria, Today 12:023 PM]**

_I thought you’d be angrier about this_

**[You, Today 12:23 PM]**

_meds_

Nathan lied, he hadn’t even taken his pills that morning, but he couldn’t tell Victoria the truth about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

**[Victoria, Today 12:24 PM]**

_Kk._

**[Victoria, Today 12:28 PM]**

_What r you doing today?_

**[You, Today 12:28 PM]**

_shit_

**[Victoria, Today 12:28 PM]**

>.>  
_Did you tell anyone else about the parrty?_

**[You, Today 12:29 PM]**

_no just U_

**[Victoria, Today 12:29 PM]**

_-.-  
_I'll go tell everyone else I guess_ _

**[Victoria, Today 12:29 PM]**

_Lazy ass_

**[You, Today 12:29 PM]**

_thx_

With that taken care of, Nathan returned his focus to the road. He still didn’t know where to look or what to do, and that had to change fast. 

**[You, Today 12:30 PM]**

_btw did U take Ur shirt to the cleaners already_

**[Victoria, Today 12:30 PM]**

_Yeah, why?_

**[You, Today 12:30 PM]**

_nvm_

Nathan found himself pulling up to the Two Whales Diner, since it was his default spot when he couldn’t decide where to go or what to do. Maybe Joyce could help.

Wait, Joyce _could_ help. She said she knew Max, that her daughter was friends with Max, and that she loved her as if she was her own. A sliver of hope emerged and Nathan held on to it tightly. He parked his car haphazardly, accidentally taking not two but _three_ parking spaces, and nearly sprinted to the main doors.

Nobody looked up at his entrance, and Nathan noticed that there was half the amount of patrons he was used to. He didn’t pay it any mind, though, as he slid over to his booth, his head snapping up every time he heard someone come out of the kitchen.

After a few minutes longer than usual a woman with short brown hair tied to a tight bun stopped by his table, her face caked with unflattering eyeshadow and badly done contour. She gave him the fakest smile he had ever seen, and he’d seen a _lot_ of fake smiles. 

“Welcome to the Two Whales Diner, Mr. Prescott,” he nearly flinched at the name. The fact that he was treated as Nathan, not a Prescott, was the entire reason he went to the Two Whales in the first place. The floozy must’ve missed that fucking memo. “How may I help you today?”

He looked at her nametag. Hope. What a stupid fucking name. Nathan glowered at her, a bit pleased when she stiffened and flicked her gaze away, a bit annoyed because Joyce would never do the same. “Where’s Joyce?” He asked.

“Joyce has taken a leave of absence,” she said, and Nathan felt like he was going to convulse. _Now? Of all times?_

“Why?” he demanded.

Hope clamped her lips shut, unknowingly smearing her cheap red lipstick over skin. Nathan wanted to rip it off. With this bare hands. Her lips, her face, her fucking eyes. Just gouge them out so she would stop looking so fucking scared of him.

“I don’t know,” she said, Nathan hating her all the more for it, “they didn’t say.”

He balled his fists at the table, ignoring the pain it brought him through his bandages. Hope must’ve completely missed looking at his hands, because when she did he heard her take a sharp intake of breath. He glared at her and she paled.

“A-are you ready to order or should I come back later?” 

Nathan almost laughed at her face. She was so fucking pathetic. He knew people hated him, but she was practically begging him to let her leave. Fucking hilarious. An even more entertaining idea crossed his mind and stayed there like a leech. Or mold. Or something equally disgusting.

“No, I’m ready to order,” he said, an even faker smile than the one she showed him earlier on his face, “I’d like some coffee, please.”

Hope’s shoulders deflated in relief, Nathan’s smile grew wider. “How do you take it?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as it’s hot. Really fucking hot.”

She frowned, but jotted down his order. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Yep. I’d like it as soon as possible, please.”

Another faux smile and she left to prepare his order. At his booth, Nathan seethed, picking at his bandages. He would teach her the consequences of disrespecting him. He would give her a reason to be so fucking scared. Did that bitch think she could replace Joyce? He couldn’t wait for her to come back, he could already picture her skin melting, her flesh burning to the bone, he could already hear her screams…

_Holy fuck._

What the fuck was wrong with him?! His heart beated against his chest wildly as he realized what he was doing. What he was planning to do. Coming back didn’t feel like being dunked in ice, it felt more like he was drowning in it, suffocating. 

The kitchen doors opened and Hope emerged with a pot of coffee on her mittened hand. Nathan could see the the steam emerging from it and he scrambled out of his booth so fast he nearly slipped. 

Nobody looked up as he sprinted out of the diner, actually tripping on the steps in front and grunting in pain when he used his hands to catch himself. Everything _hurt_ , everything was suffocating him, his heart beat so fast he swore he was going to throw it up. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was going to melt someone’s face off just because he didn’t like them. Because they weren’t Joyce. Because he was _fucking crazy._

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he said to himself, pacing around the parking lot.

He didn’t take his fucking pills and now he was drowning inside his own mind. His phone buzzed and he wanted to chuck it to the ocean.

“You’re such a failure. You always fuck up. I don’t know what he sees in you. He’s only using you for his fucking sick fetishes. He doesn’t give a shit about you. Nobody ever gives a shit about you.”

Nathan lifted the sleeve of his jacket and scratched his arm raw. He wanted to run. He wanted to run and leave everyone and everything behind. He wanted to die. He wanted to go back to the diner, take the pot of coffee, and pour it all over himself. He wanted to burn. _He wanted--_

“Hey, are you… okay?” A voice called out behind him.

Nathan started so badly he jumped. He turned around to face whomever had snuck up on him, pulling his sleeve down so hard he heard a few of the strands snap. 

He must’ve startled them too, because they took several paces back with their arms up. 

“Warren?” Nathan asked. This fucking asshole. This motherfucking piece of shit fucking asshole.

“Yeah, um, hi,” he said awkwardly. Nathan wanted to punch him.

“What do _you_ want?” Nathan snapped.

Warren shifted from foot to foot, looking at anywhere but at Nathan. It reminded him of the waitress, but for some reason it made him feel more ashamed than angry. “I was just wondering if you were okay. No offense, but you look like--”

“Like shit. I know.”

“I was going to say like a trainwreck, but if the shoe fits…”

“Oh fuck you, Graham,” Nathan walked past him, making sure to knock his shoulder into his, and began walking towards his car. Where he could have his mental breakdown in _peace._

“No, wait, that was mean. I’m sorry,” he heard the dipshit apologize timidly behind him.

Nathan’s phone buzzed again and he took it out of his pocket, not even flinching at the friction with his knuckles. 

**[Unknown, Today 12:57 PM]**

_You have an extra day. Don’t fuck it up._

Fantastic. Fan-fucking-tastic. He couldn’t even have a fucking panic attack for two fucking seconds. Nope. Nothing gets in the way of Jefferson and his fetishes. When Jefferson comes a-knockin’ Nathan comes running! Fucking bullshit. 

He was gonna fuck it up. All he did was fuck things up. He couldn’t do this, not by himself. Not with a time limit. But it wasn’t like anybody would help him, not without getting something out of it, and definitely not without raising suspicion. He didn’t even know where to start looking. Max didn’t have any fucking friends.

_Except..._

“Hey, you,” Nathan called out to Warren, who was trying to sneak past him undetected, apparently.

Warren froze on the spot and gave him a sheepish look. “Uh, yeah?”

“You were friends with Max.”

He frowned, probably confused at Nathan’s change in behavior. “Yes? I thought it was obvious by now.”

“Where do you think she is?”

“I have no idea.”

Well, that plan went out the window. Perhaps he was hoping too much thinking that Warren would give him an idea of where to search, since the guy was just as lost and desperate as Nathan was. 

“Wherever Rachel is, probably,” Warren added offhandedly.

That got Nathan’s attention. “Rachel? What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“She's missing too. It's two girls in one year. I'm not the only one making the connection; the police reopened her case.”

He thought about all the investigators around the campus. They probably weren’t as concerned when Rachel disappeared because most people claimed she left. But if Max was missing too… Nathan reached the same conclusion the officers probably did. “Oh.”

Nathan should have known life wasn’t so simple and kind as Rachel becoming a model in California. He suddenly regretted all the times he suggested Max was dead. 

“Rachel was in the Vortex Club, right?” Warren said more than asked. 

“No, she wasn't.”

“But I heard--”

“She was _‘too cool’_ for us.” Nathan emphasized this with air quotes. “She went to all the parties, all the meetings, but she was never an official member. She never wanted to be.”

“Why?”

“Fuck if I know.” God knows Nathan and the others practically begged her to join, but she always deflected the offer with jokes or flirting. Nathan entertained the thought that maybe things would have turned out different if she joined, but he knew he was just disillusioning himself. She hated anything that would tie her down.

Warren cleared his throat and drew his attention. Nathan hadn’t even noticed the guy kept inching farther and farther away from him. Awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, Warren waved one hand and said, “Well, um. See ya.”

If Max was where Rachel is, what if he found both of them? Of course, Max was his immediate priority, but what if he could get Rachel back? 

He remembered her smile, sitting under an umbrella tree, the way the sun glowed behind her like a halo. How she laughed at all his stupid jokes, how she never laughed at his meltdowns. Getting high together, doing the stupidest shit when nobody was around. Photographing her, before the Dark Room seemed so dark.

“Wait,” he spoke without realizing.

Warren stopped again, just a few feet away from his car. He cast one long mournful gaze at it, before turning his attention back to Nathan. “What?” He said, clearly exasperated.

“You were friends with Max,” Nathan said, walking up to him.

“We already established that.”

“Are you still looking for her?”

At that, Warren frowned and crossed his arms. “Why?”

“It's just a simple fucking question, Graham.”

“Fuck you. You don't have to be so rude about everything.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. _“Fine._ I'm asking because you said Max was wherever Rachel is, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to find Rachel.”

A distrustful frown formed in Warren’s face. “Since when?”

“Since always, you dipshit. But I thought she left, so I didn't bother. If something happened to her, I need to know.”

“So what are you saying?”

 _Ugh._ Nathan curled and uncurled his fists uncomfortably. He did _not_ want to say it. “Maybe we could… You know…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. 

“Team up?” Warren supplied and Nathan hated him for it.

“It sounds gay when you say it like that,” he grumbled mostly to himself.

“Why would I want to team up with you?”

“I knew Rachel better than anybody. And you know Max.” _Do the math, genius._

“You want to combine our knowledge so we can find them,” Warren stated.

“Bingo.”

Nathan let Warren mull over the idea in his head, catching every single expression that passed through his face. The guy was surprisingly easy to read. He went through the cycle of disgust, concern, annoyance, frustration, and finally resignation. Nathan didn’t want to admit it, but he was enthralled that someone could be such an open book. After living a life where he had to read every minute expression to see what was _really_ going on inside people’s heads, it was kind of refreshing. Not that he trusted Warren in any way.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Warren sighed and nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Anything to find Max.”

Nathan breathed out in relief. Not that he wanted to be stuck with _Warren_ of all people, but he would do anything for Victoria. And Rachel. He cast one final glance at his phone before turning it off. 

_Only thirty hours to go._


	6. Secondhand Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I yearn for the day these chapters will get shorter instead of longer.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for the kudos and comments, I really appreciate them! It makes me really happy to know that you guys are enjoying my fic!

_October 10_

“So,” Warren cleared his throat at the silence that permeated around them, “what do we do now?”

An annoyed look flickered on Nathan’s face. It seemed like he was hoping Warren would do all the planning. Tough luck.

He didn’t know why he accepted Nathan’s offer. Warren stopped by the Two Whales’ to pick up his car when he saw him raving and ranting at himself. Figuring he could always rewind if it got bad, he apprehensively asked if he was okay. He had no idea he was going to team up with the guy.

Nathan looked like a car ran over him. The usually well-kept and styled hair was all over the place, bangs reaching down to Nathan’s eyebrows, the rest sticking up randomly. Bloodshot eyes made the blue on his iris stick out startlingly, and his skin was pale, paler than usual, with odd marks and superficial scratches at his cheek. There was a dark spot of red pooling at the center of a band-aid that looked slapped on his chin.

But then there was his _hands._ They were the worst. Warren had no idea what he’d done to them, only that it must’ve fucking hurt. Most of his hands were covered up in different types of bandages placed haphazardly around the damage. Like his chin, you could see spots of his blood threatening to leak out of the wound.

But instead of freaking him out or scaring him, Warren just felt bad for the guy.

Nathan rolled his eyes at Warren’s lack of a suggestion and began, “Okay. First. We should probably go somewhere to talk.”

_And to think all the bullshit I had to go through just to talk with you yesterday,_ Warren thought, more annoyed than anything. “How about the Two Whales?” He suggested.

Nathan’s reaction was… not what he expected. He seemed to stiffen and his eyes stared straight ahead, past Warren, like he was somewhere else. Warren noticed he had held his breath and was about to snap him out of it when Nathan hurriedly shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Warren asked, more curious than annoyed. “It’s right there.”

“No. We’re not going to the diner.” Nathan’s tone kept Warren from protesting. “How about the beach?”

The beach brought unwanted memories of a drug dealer, a gun, and dead whales. Warren did _not_ want to go again so soon, especially if Frank was still there. “Anything but the beach, please.”

_“Fine._ Fantastic. Where do _you_ want to go?”

“I don’t know, anywhere you choose is fine.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

They were talking in circles. Nathan was exasperated and Warren was awkward and neither of them were getting anywhere with it.

“I know somewhere,” Nathan stated. “Get in the car.”

He began walking to his red SUV and stopped short when he noticed Warren wasn’t following him.

“What?” He asked.

“Why can’t we take my car?” Warren gestured to his ‘new’ 1978 dodge omni.

Nathan made a face that looked like he’d rather get hit by Warren’s car than be in it. “We’re not going in that pile of junk.”

“I literally just came by to pick it up!” Warren protested.

“Well tough, we’re going in my car.”

Nathan clicked on a button and unlocked his car. It was parked horizontally and took _three_ parking spaces. So Nathan was _that_ asshole. Not seeing the point in arguing, Warren wordlessly climbed onto the car.

The drive was hell. If he thought riding with Chloe was bad, riding with Nathan was a hundred times worse. They sat there, in complete silence until Nathan reached over and turned on the radio. Some bad country song he was sure nobody could like was playing and Warren wanted to cut his ears off. Nathan looked like he was having the exact same thoughts.

Nathan didn’t wear a seatbelt. Warren pointed it out as soon as they started driving, but Nathan just ignored him. Warren didn’t try again. A few minutes into the drive he also learned that Nathan was the most terrifying driver he had ever seen.

“Slow down, what’s the fucking hurry?” Warren pleaded, his hand holding onto the handle for dear life. 

Nathan didn’t answer, but did a swerve so steep Warren was sure the car must’ve tilted on two wheels. “Jesus, man! Are you trying to kill us?”

To Warren’s immense relief, Nathan actually slowed down and stopped when he reached a red light. He actually believed Nathan was going to run through it with the way he was driving. “Can you please slow down from now on? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said. Not very reassuring. Warren wished he had left a will somewhere, in case he really was trying to kill him.

They reached the town outskirts in record time, Warren exiting the car with shaky legs. He would get on his knees and kiss the ground if it wasn’t so gross. Nathan didn’t even look fazed as he slammed the door closed. 

“Seriously,” Warren said, his voice slightly jittery, “that was not cool.”

“Whatever. We’re here anyway.”

The stench of rust and decay settled itself in Warren’s nostrils and he raised his shirt in a vain attempt to protect himself from it. A giant sign with the words “AMERICAN RUST” stood before the giant heaps of trash settled on the ground. Warren couldn’t think of a worse place he wanted to be.

“The junkyard?” _Is this guy serious?_

“You got a problem with that too, Princess?” Nathan said, leaning against the rusted sign.

“No, just wondering why.”

“I saw your car and it reminded me of this place.”

_Ouch._ Warren couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. What was the point of time powers if he couldn’t use it to win arguments?

“Rachel used to come here all the time,” Nathan explained.

“And you?”

“Sometimes.” Nathan shrugged and walked inside. Warren recognized the cue for him to follow.

The place was a dump. Literally. Broken bottles, old cars, wrecked boats, abandoned clothing, there wasn’t anything this place didn’t have. He avoided stepping on some used syringes, wondering what his chances of walking out with gangrene were. Probably not very good.

At the distance, he saw a lone doe lying in a patch of dirt, staring at him. It looked at him with a look Warren could only describe as “knowing”. The sun must’ve been playing tricks on his eyes because he swore he could see through it. What was a doe doing in an abandoned junkyard?

“Hey, are you coming or what?” 

Warren didn’t notice he had fallen several steps behind Nathan. He cast one last look at the doe, only to find out that it was gone. That was… Okay, he didn’t want to think about it. He jogged to catch up with Nathan, who stood waiting for him in front of a broken-down hut of some sort.

“What is this?” Warren asked.

“This is where Rachel used to hang out. We can talk here.” Nathan stepped inside the hideout, Warren following closely.

The place didn’t so much smell like teen spirit so much as it _reeked_ it. Aside from the fact that they were in the middle of a junkyard, the hideout was the textbook definition of punk. Discarded pizza boxes, random furniture probably taken from the piles of trash outside, burned-out bongs, edgy graffiti, and years-old magazines were littering the place. If Warren was being perfectly honest, it was kind of cool. It had a personality and represented the rebellious teenage years that he didn’t get to have.

Nathan didn’t say anything as Warren walked around, looking at everything. He sat in what must’ve been an old car seat, pushing aside a moldy bong and an empty cigarette pack. The graffiti on the wall caught Warren’s eye. More specifically, a sign written in thick black sharpie that said, “Chloe was here,” and underneath it, “Rachel was here”.

“How did you find out about this place?” Warren asked.

“Rachel’s taken me here a few times. Four, actually,” Warren didn’t know how the number of times Rachel had taken him there was important, but he let Nathan continue. “I’ve never come here without her.”

Warren picked up a discarded photo on a makeshift table. It was of Rachel and Chloe, posing in what looked like one of those cheesy photobooths. The first picture was goofy, the second one was ridiculously serious, and the third one was a regular photo. They looked close. 

“What was your relationship with her?” Warren asked, still staring at the picture. He doubted Nathan and Rachel were together; if they were, he would have heard about it by now.

When Nathan didn’t answer right away, Warren looked up. Nathan looked uncomfortable with the question, his eyes were glued to the floor and his brow set in a deep frown. Warren was about to retract it when he answered. “She was just a friend. Nothing else.”

That didn’t _seem_ like nothing else, but Warren wasn’t going to press. Especially if he couldn’t use his time powers as liberally as he wanted. “She was friends with Chloe,” he mentioned, showing him the picture.

Nathan made a disgusted face and took the photo. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you know Chloe?”

Nathan scoffed and crumpled up the photograph. “Fuck no.”

“But you--”

“I know she was friends with Rachel, and that she’s a bitch, but I’m not _cozy_ with her or anything.” 

Warren sensed some bad blood between them, but wasn’t sure he should pry. 

“What about you?” Nathan asked, robbing him of the chance.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Max.”

“Oh,” Warren found himself rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “we’re friends.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?”

“Something that will help us find her.”

Warren took a seat next to Nathan in a large plank of wood sitting on a cinderblock, his back to a giant elephant rug. He crossed his legs and balanced his elbows on his knee, his chin resting on his fists. He thought for a good while. “She’s my best friend,” he said.

“Okay? And?” Nathan gestured impatiently.

“But I guess I haven’t known her that long. She likes photography and scary movies, um,” Warren struggled to think of anything important. “She was born and raised in Arcadia Bay, before she moved to Seattle a few years ago. She came back to study photography under Mr. Jefferson. I think she had a crush on him.”

Nathan scrunched his nose and Warren replied with, “I know.”

“Is that it?” Nathan asked, unimpressed.

“Well, I, uh,” Warren started, but his sentence dragged off. He’d had a huge crush on Max--and he wasn’t lying when he said she was his best friend (though that said a lot more about _him_ than about her)--but he was beginning to realize he didn’t know her very well at all.

“Fuck. Fucking shit fuck,” Nathan hunched over in his seat with his hands on his head. Warren didn’t know what to make of that. “Did she have any other fucking friends? Anybody that knew her better than you?”

“Yeah,” Warren said, “Kate.”

“Well, shit.”

And then there was Chloe. Max’s childhood best friend, who didn’t even know she was around until Warren told her two days ago. But if there really was bad blood between her and Nathan, Warren didn’t know how to bring it up.

“What do _you_ know about Max?” Warren decided to ask.

“Next to nothing,” said Nathan, “only that she takes a lot of selfies and has no friends.”

“Then why are you so invested?”

“I told you, I’m looking for Rachel.”

He didn’t buy it. Nathan went through her _room_ before he connected the disappearance with Rachel. His mind drifted back to an earlier conversation. “You said Max saw something she shouldn’t have seen, what was it?”

Nathan froze, a look of horror and anger flashed on his features. “What the _fuck?”_

At first Warren was confused, until he remembered that conversation never actually happened. At least not according to Nathan. “Oh wait, that’s right…”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t tell anybody about that!”

He messed up. He totally forgot he rewinded right after that, so of course Nathan wouldn’t remember. “Yeah, yeah, you didn’t.”

“Then how the _fuck_ \--”

Warren leaned back in his seat and rewinded, almost bored. He looked ahead blankly, one hand raised in the air reversing time and the other one curled in a fist under his chin. His eyes were glued to the far wall while Nathan went through his rage backwards. He reread the familiar graffiti: Chloe was here, Rachel was here, Max was--

_Wait, what?_

Time righted itself again as Warren let go of the pull, his eyes glued to the graffiti on the wall. Chloe was here, Rachel was here. What just happened?

“Hellooo?” He was pulled out of his reverie as Nathan waved a hand in front of is face, blocking his view of the message.

“Did you see that?” Warren asked without thinking.

Nathan frowned and followed Warren’s line of view. “See what?”

But no, of course he didn’t see it. Because he was talking (or _un_ talking) to Warren while it happened. He wouldn’t have seen it if Warren was using his time powers. 

Not bothering to give Nathan an answer, he walked up to the wall and pulled. 

And there it was, clear as day. A newer-looking message drawn on the cement with a black sharpie.

_Max was here._

He stood there, transfixed. From what he could tell from weeks of passing notes, it was Max’s handwriting. Warren had no idea how it got to be there, or why he could only see it as he rewinded, but it had to be a sign. A sign of what, he didn’t know. 

His minute was up.

“What about you?” Nathan repeated.

“Max was here,” Warren breathed.

His voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, but Nathan heard it. “What? How do you know?”

The message was gone now; he couldn’t show it to Nathan, and he couldn’t explain how he saw it either.

“I just… know.”

Nathan leaned over and grabbed his head in his hands, similar to earlier. “Fuck,” Warren heard him say.

“When did you last see her?” Warren asked.

“That’s--”

“None of my business, fine, but if we’re gonna start working together we need to trust each other.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, asshole,” Nathan said, but Warren doubted it. “When’s the last time _you_ saw her?”

Warren knew he was avoiding the question, which at this point frustrated more than worried him, but he decided to humor him anyway. “Monday morning, during class. Before that, we played WOW on Saturday and watched some movies at my dorm and then she said Final Fantasy: Spirits Within was one of the best movies she’d ever seen. So naturally, I had to correct that and lent her my movie-booty flash drive. I was with my dad on Sunday getting my car and that took _forever_ and I hung out with Alyssa the latter part of the day and then on Monday…”

“Oh my God just get to the point already.”

“I texted her on Monday to meet me at the parking lot and she never showed. You did. Your turn.”

_“Ugh._ Fine, but you have to swear not to tell anybody or I will blow your brains out.”

“I swear not to tell anybody.”

“I was in the girls’ bathroom on Monday and it turned out she was there too. She pulled the fire alarm and I scrammed. That’s it.”

“What were you doing in the girls’ bathroom?” 

“None--”

“Don’t start. If we’re going to do this we need to trust each other. I need to know what happened in the bathroom; especially if Max was involved.”

Nathan looked like he wanted to jump from his seat and punch Warren right then. He seemed to be mulling it over, before sighing and giving him a steady gaze. “I didn’t know she was there, she was hiding behind a stall or something like a creep. Anyway, I was meeting someone there.”

“Who?”

“A girl. Your imagination can fill out the rest.”

“Oh.” _Oh._ Yeah, that made sense. Warren could feel his cheeks heating up. Not that he was a prude or anything, far from it, but it was still embarrassing. 

“Caulfield freaked and she pulled the fire alarm. We hightailed it outta there.”

“Yeah, um, okay. You don’t have to go into detail.”

“I’m not.”

“But then, if she was hiding behind a stall, how did you know it was her?”

“I found a selfie of hers in there. I _assume_ she left it there.”

“You could be wrong.”

“Yeah, I could.”

Warren sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Is that all?”

“Yep. I asked around, but nobody’s seen or heard from her since. She hasn’t been to her dorm or anything. By the way, Dana has your flash drive.”

“She does? Dang, I was kinda hoping that Max ran because she didn’t want to return my cool movies.” 

To his complete and utter surprise, that actually made Nathan _laugh._

Well, if by laughing you meant a strangled choking sound that was quickly masked by a cough and a deep frown, then yeah, Nathan Prescott absolutely laughed at his lame joke.

“Dana doesn’t know where she is either. She referred me to you.”

“And that’s how you ended up in the parking lot, about to kick my ass.”

“Yep.”

“That was a lot less sinister than I imagined.”

“What, did you think I killed someone?”

“I’ll admit, it was on my list of theories.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Warren sat down in a worn down chair across from Nathan. It was uncomfortable, but there weren’t many seating options available. “Tell me about Rachel.”

Nathan mulled over the question, looking up at the missing ceiling and pursing his lips. Warren stared at his neck; there was a faint red stain running down it that began at his chin and continued under the collar of his shirt. It was probably blood. Warren had an inexplicable urge to wipe it off himself, which was weird. 

His trance was broken as Nathan brought his head down to look at him. “Rachel was unique. She could make friends with anybody she wanted without breaking a sweat. Like a chameleon, she could fit in anywhere she wanted.”

That explained why Rachel was popular enough to be known by absolutely anyone at the academy before she disappeared. Nathan continued. “Everyone thinks they know her, but that’s BS. She talked a lot, about herself mostly, but she never really _said_ anything. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Warren had no idea what Nathan was talking about, but he nodded anyways.

“She was an attention whore,” Nathan rolled his eyes when Warren cringed at the term. “If you’d met her you’d think the same. She walked around like she was the center of the universe, and she was. It wasn’t a secret she wanted to be a model, in fact, she would hand out her headshots as if they were flyers.”

“Wow. She’s nothing like Max,” Warren pointed out.

“Nope.”

He tried to recall anything he might have heard about her, and remembered the conversation with Stella. _The amount of dirt you can dig up on Rachel can load up a landfill._ “I heard she might’ve been involved with drugs, is that true?”

“Yep.” Nathan’s bluntness surprised Warren. Not that he doubted Stella or anything, but he didn’t expect him to be so forward about it.

“What about Frank?”

_"You_ know Frank? You look like you haven’t even taken a hit of baby aspirin.”

“I only met the guy recently. He wasn’t very nice.”

“Most dealers aren’t. But yeah, Rachel was _involved_ with Frank too.”

“When you say involved…”

“They were fucking.”

“Oh. That explains a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Why he has her bracelet.”

Nathan’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “How do you know that?”

“Like I said, I, uh, met him recently. It’s not hard to miss, it’s really girly.”

“No, how did you know it was _Rachel’s?”_

Warren didn’t know how to answer that. “I was with somebody who knew Rachel.” He didn’t want to talk about what happened at the beach with Chloe and Frank, at least not yet. “You don’t think he had anything to do with her, do you?”

“He better fucking not. For his sake.”

“So, uh, not to judge or anything, but why were they together? Frank’s pretty scary, I can’t picture him being with Rachel.”

“It was just sex, she wasn’t in _love_ with him. She wanted his stash so she fucked him and let him take pictures. He pretended she did it for love, as if anyone could love that loser.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Yeah, well,” Nathan never finished his sentence, instead he grabbed a nearby bong, the cleanest of the bunch, and pulled out a small bag with what Warren could assume was weed from underneath the cushion of his seat.

“Seriously?” Warren asked, exasperated and a little scandalized.

“I need it,” he said, taking out a lighter and holding it below the base. “You want a hit?”

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Nathan said, but it was muffled as he pressed his lips against the mouth, sucking in the vapors. There was no smoke as he exhaled.

“I don’t want you high while we look for Max, Nathan.”

“I’ll be even more useless otherwise, believe me.”

“Nathan--”

“Too late.”

Great. The last thing he needed was Nathan out of it while they looked for Max. “How long does that last?”

“An hour and a half, give or take.”

Shit. Warren decided to rewind, maybe he could convince Nathan not to--

That was when he saw her.

Max, unmistakably Max, walking around exploring the room as he did earlier. She stopped at the wall where their names were written, took a sharpie, and added her own. Warren felt the pull get stronger and heavier, but he kept at it. His minute was up if the pouding in his skull was anything to go by, but he wasn’t ready to let go. Through the red haze of pain he saw Max rifle through Rachel’s things, pulling out a loose sheet of paper from a notebook. She read it, shook her head, and slipped it back between the pages. 

With his head feeling like it was about to crack, Warren lost the pull. 

He slumped back into his chair, breathing heavily. Max was there, Max was there, _Max was there._ There was no doubt about it. She was there, being her nosy self, just a few feet away from him. But once he let go she was gone.

“Yo, are you okay?” He heard a voice that sounded so far away and diluted from his ringing ears.

“What was--” Warren cut himself off, hating how strained his voice sounded. He took a second to catch his breath, his head tilted towards the not-ceiling, feeling Nathan’s eyes on him like a physical force. “What was the last thing you said?”

Though he couldn’t see him, he could picture Nathan’s frown perfectly. “That he better not have anything to do with Rachel being missing. I don’t think he does, but you never know, the guy is into some freaky shit.”

“What kind of shit?”

“He took a some kind of weird blood oath for Rachel. Whatever you do, don’t tell him I told you.”

Warren tilted his head so he could look at Nathan. He raised one hand in a salute, the other crossing his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a fucking nerd.”

Despite everything, Warren found himself grinning cheekily as Nathan grumbled to himself, but felt his smile dissolve when Nathan reached for the bong again.

_Guess you can’t fix everything,_ Warren reminded himself. He watched Nathan take a few hits, and like earlier, rejected his offer. 

“So, what now?” He asked.

“I feel pretty great, I don’t know about you,” said Nathan, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. It was kind of creepy, actually.

“I’m not feeling too good,” Warren said, feeling the beginnings of a nosebleed trickling down his nasal cavity. 

“I feel like I could run a marathon.”

“Then let’s go,” Warren stood up and extended his arm to Nathan to let him up, but Nathan wasn’t taking it. “Come on, get up.”

“I don’t want to move,” Nathan said, slouching back into his seat even more.

“You just said you could run a marathon.”

“Yeah, but not, like, right _now.”_

Warren sighed and pressed the back of his hand against his nostrils, preventing blood from flowing out and muffling his voice. “You can’t drive, can you?”

“I can drive.”

He shook his head and grabbed Nathan’s hand himself, pulling it up. Nathan slumped forward in his seat with a, “Ffffffuuuck,” before ripping his hand from Warren’s grip and curling it under his stomach.

“What?” Warren asked.

“That fuckin’ hurts.”

“Shit, yeah. What happened, by the way?”

“I got into a boxing match with a tree.” 

Warren couldn’t help but chuckle before he caught himself and coughed to hide it. “Sorry.”

“You can laugh. It’s funny.” Nathan said, chuckling himself, then a faraway look entered his eyes and he frowned. “Wait, no it wasn’t.”

“Why were you punching a tree?” Warren asked.

“Anger issues. I gotta take it out on something.”

“Yeah, but a tree? Most people take on boxing.”

At this, though Warren had no idea why, Nathan started laughing. It wasn’t like the embarrassed chuckle that escaped earlier, this was a high-pitched guffaw that sent chills down to Warren’s core. It sounded, quite literally, like a super-villain laugh. Something you would hear a crazed Disney villain cackle moments before taking over the world. 

Then Nathan stood up so abruptly Warren took several paces backwards. “Okay. We should go find Max.”

“Shit, dude, what? I thought you were out of it.”

“I’m just tired, I didn’t sleep. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna accomplish much if you’re high…”

“No, man, you don’t get it. I’m trying to get inside Rachel’s head, you know? How can you find somebody if you don’t know what they’re thinking?”

“Rachel was a stoner?”

“Dude,” Nathan lifted up the seat where he was sitting to reveal the underneath it was lined with small packets of weed and what Warren assumed was cocaine.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeahp,” said Nathan, putting the seat back down. “You’re _sure_ you don’t want some? It’s freeee.”

“It’s not free, it’s stealing.”

“Yeah, but it’s illegal anyways, so it’s like a double crime. They cancel each other out.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“No, no, listen…” Warren listened as Nathan went on this long, baked rant about how two wrongs actually _did_ make a right, before going onto law vs. morality, and about how the cops would be thanking them for getting rid of more drugs. Warren found that Nathan was actually kind of fun to hang out with. When he was high, of course.

Nathan suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared at the floor with more intensity Warren had ever seen. “What?” Warren asked.

“I lost my train of thought,” said Nathan.

“ _‘My dad owns the pigs at Blackwell…’_ ” Warren supplied.

“No, my dad owns the pigs at Blackwell!”

“I was quoting you, dumbass.”

“Yeah, well, whatthefuckever. My point is…” He stopped again then turned to Warren. “What was my point?”

“You were trying to convince me to do drugs.”

“Oh yeah. Shit, how long was I talking?” Nathan pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and stared at his naked wrist.

“Like ten minutes.”

“We gotta find Max. You’re distracting me.”

“So _rry_ for being such a distraction. It’s not like you being high has nothing to do with it.”

“I just wanted a few hours of peace.”

“Peace from what?”

“Nuthin’. Let’s go, I’m starving. Maybe there’s something in this junkyard to eat.”

Nathan walked out of the hut, leaving Warren alone. Before following Nathan to make sure he didn’t mistake any of the garbage for a five-star meal, he checked something that was burning his curiosity since he first saw it. He walked over to the small makeshift drawer that he saw Max interact with and took the notebook. It was Rachel’s; some kind of lyrics-slash-poetry journal. 

He flipped through it until he found a loose sheet of paper slipped between the pages. Written in it, with large, messy, violent handwriting was: _I WANT TO DIE._

Who wrote this? Warren felt a small tug of sympathy for them. Especially after Kate. He thought of the possibility of it being Rachel’s--and that it was the cause of her disappearance--but that theory was quickly cast away as he saw the lyrics that lay behind the sheet of paper.

The notebook page was full of scribbles and scratched-out words, with commentary written on the margins. Whomever had written the note, Rachel seemed to care about them enough to attempt to write a song for them.

He didn’t read it, that was too personal, so he slipped the sheet between the pages again and placed them where he found it, as if it were untouched. He heard Nathan call out to him, and left the hut.

“I’m friggin’ _hungry,”_ said Nathan, waving his arms to gesture at the empty space around him. “There’s nothing here to eat.”

“We’re in the middle of a junkyard, what did you expect? A restaurant?”

He laughed again, like Warren said the funniest thing in the world. “Now there’s an idea. Come on, let’s go back to my car.”

Warren remained where he stood. “I’m not getting in a car with you while you’re high.”

“I _told_ you, I can drive.”

“You drive like a maniac while _sober,_ I’m not risking it.”

“I’ll be super extra careful for your delicate feelings, your Highness,” Nathan bowed mockingly at Warren. 

“Let’s just hang around here for a while, yeah? Maybe we’ll find something.”

_“Fine._ Whatever. Whatthefuckever. What-the-fuck-ever.” Nathan stomped away, muttering different variations of the same phrase over and over again. Warren should’ve probably kept an eye on him.

He saw the doe again. At a distance. It was following a dirt-paved trail that led outside the junkyard, to the train tracks. Warren hoped there wouldn’t be any incoming trains. 

“That’d make a nice shot for a photo,” Warren mused aloud.

“What? Where? Who?” Nathan asked, looking around wildly.

“That doe. It’s pretty cool-looking.”

“What doe? I fuckin’ love does.”

“Over there, by the train tracks.”

Nathan squinted at the direction Warren indicated before shrugging and saying, “I don’t see it. You’re high.”

“No, _you’re_ high.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Warren decided to humor him and took it literally. “According to the ‘eternal inflation’ theory, our universe may be just one of countless others all separated in a patchwork of ‘bubbles’ of space time. Each of the bubbles could have different laws of physics, like there could be a universe where gravity or hydrogen doesn’t exist.”

He smirked at Nathan’s astounded expression. “Shit, whoa. Holy fuckin’ shit. That’s fucking awesome. Holy fuck. Is there a universe where I’m not high as a fucking kite?”

“That’s another theory, but maybe.”

“Whoa.”

Warren had to admit, Nathan’s reaction to metaphysics was hilarious. Though he was ninety-nine percent sure that if he wasn’t high he would have rolled his eyes and called him a nerd. Everybody else did.

“I still don’t see the deer though,” said Nathan.

“It’s right over--” Warren looked up again, but the doe was gone. Vanished, like earlier. Was it ever there at all? Oh man, he really was losing it.

Unless it was like earlier. With his time powers. How he could see Max even though she clearly wasn’t there. But she had been, at some point. Warren was sure of that. He just didn’t know _when._

If he used his power now, would he still see her? Warren decided to give it a try. He rewinded, only for a few seconds, he didn’t want to mess anything up. He saw Nathan freaking out about multiverses again, but backwards. He looked at the train tracks, but the doe was not there. It never had been. 

He saw Max just as he was about to let go of the pull. She was balancing herself on a plank, walking towards a trashed fishing boat and taking a glass bottle. The pressure got too much and Warren let go, not wanting to push himself more than he already had.

“Shit, whoa. Holy fuckin’ shit. That’s fucking awesome…”

Wait a minute. That only took place a few seconds ago. There was no way it had been a full minute since Warren rewinded. Forty seconds, _maybe,_ but not a full minute. It sure felt like he spent an eternity rewinding though. Were his rewinds getting shorter?

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you,” Nathan shoved him lightly.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what? I spaced out,” Warren said.

“I _said_ is there a universe where I’m not high as shit?”

“Yeah, maybe, I guess.”

“Must suck to be in that universe.”

“Yeah…” Warren wasn’t really paying attention. Max was _there._ He didn’t know what the fuck she was doing, but she was _there,_ at the junkyard. He didn’t care if he might fuck something up, he was going to try again.

“Can you sit over there for, like, a minute?” He asked Nathan. 

“What the fuck for?”

“Just do me that one favor, please?”

_“Fine,”_ he said, then took a seat on an abandoned couch. 

Warren set a timer on his phone and gave it to Nathan. “Hold this for me for a sec.”

“Are you gonna tell me what the fuck this is all about or am I gonna have to guess?”

“I’ll tell you later. Maybe. Probably not.”

Nathan looked pissed but didn’t say anything. Warren was grateful. He didn’t really consider telling anyone about his power--except for Max--but he doubted he wanted Nathan as the first person to know. 

After exactly one minute passed Warren braced himself for the ever-increasing pull and rewinded. Time didn’t seem to pass more slowly when using his power, everything rewinded at the same rate as it happened in the first place. He found Max again, at another part of the junkyard, collecting another bottle and looking at random things. He pulled for as long as he could, until he felt his mental grip on time slip from his fingers and he let go.

“What does it say on the timer?” He asked Nathan, who was sitting at the couch where Warren left him.

“Thirty-seven seconds.”

Shit, so his rewinds really _were_ getting shorter. Maybe it was a side-effect of pulling too hard. It was like playing tug-of-war with time itself. If he pulled too hard, it felt like his mind would chafe and it would be harder to go at it again. That fucking sucked.

Still, it had to be a clue to finding Max. And if anything, he swore to use his powers to find her. 

“I’m gonna look around,” Warren said and Nathan stood up to follow him.

“I think I’m starting to come down,” Nathan said, upset. “Great.”

 

Warren walked around the junkyard for what felt like half an hour, but considering how many times he had rewinded, probably consisted of only a couple of minutes. In that time he learned a few things: the more he _pulled_ his power, the less he could rewind. Secondly, when he rewinded his body followed.

“Where’d the fuck did you go?” Nathan asked. He was almost completely sober.

“Behind this mountain of garbage.”

“How the fuck did you get there so fast?”

Warren learned he had to be more careful about his rewinds. More than once he went back in time only to realize that he must’ve vanished right in front of Nathan’s eyes, causing him to freak out. Warren managed to convince him it was the pot distorting his sense of time, but now that Nathan was lucid he couldn’t do that anymore.

“Superpowers,” Warren said.

“Ha-ha. Hilarious.”

“A few minutes ago you might’ve believed me.”

“Hope you enjoyed that while it lasted, asshole.”

His time was ten seconds, now. After that, the pull got too overwhelming and he couldn’t hold it anymore. Unless he wanted to crack his brain open, at least. But Max was all over the place. Exploring, just like he explored. Turning over trash, picking up bottles, talking to _someone._ That was the part Warren wanted to figure out the most: who was she talking to?

He couldn’t hear anything she said. One time he rewinded and was surprised to find that she was right in front of him. He almost lost the pull at how badly he started, but he managed it. She was grinning and laughing, talking to some invisible entity that only she could see. There weren’t any words coming out of her mouth; all he could hear was a distorted whisper playing itself on a loop. Lip reading didn’t work either--he was shit at it.

Warren waited a few seconds before rewinding, so he didn’t accidentally teleport anywhere. 

He felt the pull, like tendrils wrapping themselves around his arm. His grip on it was weak and getting weaker, but it would be worth it if he could see Max one last time…

_What the hell?!_

Warren’s brain worked overdrive trying to process what he was seeing. Max, shoulders squared, a fearful look in her eyes, and trembling hands holding a gun. _Aiming_ a gun. Pointing it at _someone._ Warren more than ever wished that he could hear was she was saying. He wished he knew what was going on.

Ten seconds passed much, _much_ sooner than he would have liked.

“Is there a reason you’re making us walk through this piece of shit junkyard staring at nothing or are you just wasting our time?”

“Do you know if Max had any enemies?” Warren asked.

Nathan’s eyebrows furrowed to their natural placement. Warren almost forgot what he looked without that signature frown. “How the fuck should I know? Victoria doesn’t like her, but that’s about it.”

Max wouldn’t pull a gun on Victoria in the middle of a junkyard. Nothing about that made sense. Technically, Max pulling a gun on _anyone_ wouldn’t make sense. She was a pacifist. 

A part of him wished he could just tell Nathan what was going on. Maybe he would stop looking as crazy as he felt. He doubted Nathan would take the information well, or if he would believe him, or if he would keep it a secret. If he had more time, he would consider telling him and just rewinding if he reacts badly. But Warren, ironically, didn’t have much of that left.

“Well?” Nathan asked at Warren’s pause.

“It’s nothing. I can’t think of anybody either.” Warren kicked at an abandoned can on the ground. “Let’s just go.”

“Fucking finally.”

ooo

The drive back was, thankfully, a lot less tense than the first one. When the radio turned on and another god-awful country song played through the speakers Warren poised his hand over the radio. “Do you mind?” He asked.

“Please,” said Nathan.

And like that, Warren had full control of the music. He was actually very surprised Nathan didn’t flat out slap his hand away, and it turned out they actually had similar tastes. Not that Nathan would have admitted it, but Warren occasionally caught him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat.

Nathan still drove like a motherfucking maniac, though. After some begging, pleading, and making promises he couldn’t keep, he convinced him to drive only a little bit faster than the speed limit. 

“What time is it?” Nathan asked.

“Uh,” Warren looked at the clock on the radio. “11:23 a.m.?”

“That clock doesn’t work. It’s why I asked you instead of looking, dumbass.”

“Well ex _cuse_ me,” Warren dug around his pants for his phone. “It’s almost five.” 

“Shiiiit,” hissed Nathan.

“Hey, isn’t the Vortex party in a few hours? I thought you’d be preparing.”

“Cancelled. Or postponed. Whatever. Wells said that with everything that’s been going on a party seemed like a bad idea. Victoria’s taking care of it.”

“Dang, that sucks.”

Nathan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Were you gonna go?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“What about school? You don’t look the type to skip.”

“I think everyone’s skipping today.”

Nathan looked like he was about to say something else when Warren’s phone chimed. He dug it out of his pocket and noticed Nathan kept staring at him, his question evident on his face: _Is it Max?_

A glance at the screen told him, no, it wasn’t, and he shook his head silently. Nathan’s shoulders slumped, disappointed and he returned his gaze to the road.

It wasn’t Max who had texted him, but Chloe. 

**[Chloe, Today 4:53 PM]**

_yo nerd_  
_are you still gonna help me pay off frank_

_Shiiit,_ Warren completely forgot about that. 

**[You, Today 4:54 PM]**

_Where are we going to get 3000$ by tomorrow?_

**[Chloe, Today 4:54 PM]**

_fuk if i know_  
_my parents have me on lockdown rn_  
_they found out max went missing and step-dork basically locked me in my room_  
_“for my protection”_  
_fuckin bullshit._

**[You, Today 4:55 PM]**

_At least Frank won’t find you if youre in your room._

**[Chloe, Today 4:55 PM]**

_yea, so i guess im “laying low”_  
_against my will_  
_which fuckin sux_

**[Chloe, Today 4:56 PM]**

_are you still looking for rachel?_

**[You, Today 4:56 PM]**

_I’m looking for her right now, actually. But I don’t know where to start._

**[Chloe, Today 4:56 PM]**

_check w/ frank_  
_hes hiding something i know it._

Yeah, that they were having sex. But Warren had a feeling that telling Chloe would not go well, so he decided to keep it to himself for now. At least until he had concrete proof. He sent a quick, _‘g2g ttyl’_ message to Chloe when he realized the car was slowing down.

When Warren saw that Nathan was pulling up to Blackwell instead of the diner, he turned to him in dismay. “Dude, my car is still at the Two Whales’.”

“Relax, you’ll get your shitty car. I just gotta pick something up first,” Nathan said, turning off the car. 

Typical. “Couldn’t it have waited until _after_ we picked up my car? It wasn’t that far out of the way.”

“No, it couldn’t have, so quit your whining.”

 

The dormitories were crowded, more so than usual. Most of the investigators were gone, but there was a thick crowd gathered in front of the main entrance. Nathan groaned in frustration. Warren tried standing on his toes to see past them, to no avail. Fortunately, he managed to spot Stella among the crowd.

It took a couple of tries to get her attention with everything that was going on, but she finally noticed him. “Oh, Warren you’re here!” She pushed past a couple of people, some who were more than happy to take her place closer to the front of the crowd.

“Yeah, hey. What’s going on?”

“The press is here. Local and National news outlets are covering what’s been going on at Blackwell. They were looking for you, actually.”

Warren nearly squeaked. “Me? Why?”

“You were the first that noticed Max was missing and reported it. I can’t believe she’s _actually_ missing, I thought you were being paranoid.”

“I thought I was too.”

“Her parents flew in from Seattle and they’re hysterical. They’re thinking Max was kidnapped.”

Warren’s heart plummeted to his stomach. “Have the cops found out anything?”

“Nothing at all, and that’s the weirdest part. Principal Wells has been taking the brunt of it, since nobody noticed she was gone until _days_ later. And after Kate and Rachel, I think he might lose his job. If they don’t close the school, that is.”

“Fuck.”

“Come on, let’s go around,” Stella took his hand and started dragging him towards the throng of people.

“Ah, wait!” Warren turned around to look for Nathan, but he was gone.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

They skirted through the crowd, pushing aside onlookers. Some of them had their phones out recording it. It distinctively reminded him of Kate, and Warren felt sick. They snuck past a lone security guard; most of them had formed a half-ring around the students to keep them away from the cameras. Warren and Stella stood at a distance, but they could see and hear the interview.

Principal Wells stood at the steps of the girls’ dormitory, his hands folded behind his back as the media swarmed him with questions.

“How long has Caulfield been missing?”

“She was reported to me by a student only yesterday afternoon, I took the necessary procedure immediately.”

“Do you think she’s related to Rachel Amber?”

“How long did it take for you to notice she was gone?”

“Did the faculty notice her absence?”

“Does this have something to do with the suicide of Kate Marsh?”

Warren did not envy the principal. News reporters were fucking vicious. There was a man in uniform standing next to him, probably an investigator or Wells’s bodyguard or something.

“Some are saying you recently fired your head of security and you are unfit for your position at this institution. What do you have to say to that?”

“The head of security was _suspended_ for reasons unrelated to Miss Caulfield’s disappearance.”

“Do you think that by suspending the head of security you have placed Caulfield in direct harm?”

“Vultures,” Warren heard Stella whisper next to him. 

“Give the guy a break. A lot of shit’s been going down; it’s not his fault she’s missing,” Warren said, knowing that the reporters couldn’t hear him.

A soft voice spoke behind them. “They’re not going to find her.” Warren and Stella both jumped in surprise.

Stella was the first to recover from the momentary heart attack. “What? Why not?” 

“Samuel misses young Max. And so do the squirrels. They liked her.” Samuel said, a faraway look in his eyes.

Warren never hated the creepy janitor. Sometimes he was even fond of his cryptic messages and his love for squirrels. That said, he hardly talked to the man. He found his glazed eyes and soft voice unsettling at best.

But right now, Warren’s heart was beating rapidly. Samuel didn’t have something to do with Max, did he?

“What do you mean they won’t find her? You know where she is?” Warren asked, heart at his throat.

Samuel sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Max is gone, Samuel’s afraid. She won’t be coming back.”

Warren clenched and unclenched his fists in a nervous gesture. “She’s not coming back? What does that mean? D-Did she leave willingly or did something happen to her?”

“Yes,” said Samuel.

But what did that _mean?_

He felt Stella tug at his arm. “Come on, Warren. We should get going.” Warren hadn’t noticed that the crowd was dispersing, the interview ( _slaughter,_ his brain provided) apparently over. He let Stella lead him through the crowds and looked over his shoulder to see Samuel waving him goodbye. 

“Okay, that. Was. _Creepy.”_ Stella rubbed at her arms as if she had gotten goosebumps.

“You don’t think that he…” Warren let his sentence trail off unfinished.

“Samuel isn’t dangerous. He’s just weird. I think. I don’t have much on him. He talks to squirrels and the Tobanga sometimes and he has a porn mag stash in the janitorial closet. But other than that, nothing. I think he’s married, but I could be wrong.”

“But what he said. It was so _ominous.”_

“I know. But if it was him, the police would have caught on, right? I mean, you’d think the guy that sneaks up behind people telling them cryptic messages would have a personal agenda. He probably just has a few screws loose.”

“Yeah,” Warren breathed, feeling reassured. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“I have to go pick up my car at the diner.”

Stella raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were doing that this morning.”

“A lot of stuff happened.”

She perked up. “I love stuff. Tell me more.”

Warren considered it, but honestly, it was just too weird. Even without the time traveling bits. How was he supposed to explain he spent the whole day walking around the junkyard with the resident rich asshole? Besides, though he hadn’t said anything, Nathan seemed like he would want to keep this on the down low. He might be the rich prick, but Warren was the resident loser.

“Sorry Stella, you’re just gonna have to live without me making a deposit in your gossip bank.”

“That was _terrible_ and you know it.”

“It was, wasn’t it? Anyways, I gotta go. Catch you later?”

“Yeah. Keep me posted on your _stuff.”_

“Sure thing.”

 

The walk back to the dorms felt like swimming against a current. Though a short distant away, there was a large number of people heading in different directions and Warren had to push through in order to get anywhere. He nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time when he felt a pair of hands land on his shoulder from behind and guide him through the throng of people.

Once they reached a less populated area--near the Tobanga--Warren turned around to see who led him out of the crowd.

Mr. Jefferson raised his hands up disarmingly at Warren’s wide-eyed expression. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Warren.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I think they would have eaten me alive,” Warren said, gesturing at the denser parts of the crowd. Mr. Jefferson having been the one to save him from the crowd had been a surprise, but not a bad one. He looked tired, but composed. Not nearly as ragged as Principal Wells, at least. His brows were lowered in a perpetual look of concern, but outside of that there was not a single hair or wrinkle out of place.

“Yeah, they probably would have. We’ve been looking for you.”

“How come?”

“We have someone that would like to--” Mr. Jefferson cut himself off and looked at someone behind Warren. He gave them a thin smile. “There you are. This is the boy that reported that Max was missing.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” a hoarse female voice spoke behind him. Warren turned around. 

A tall woman with short brown hair and a sad smile stood there, her hands clasped in front of her hard enough to turn them white. _She looks like Max,_ was Warren’s initial thought, and then the penny dropped.

_Oh no._

He was not ready for this, _Warren was not ready for this._ It was one thing seeing other students mourn Max’s disappearance; they didn’t know her that well and had nothing to lose. But seeing her barely kept together mother standing before him… it was too much.

She looked like Max too, down to the hairstyle. Her face was longer and her lips were thinner, but she and Max had the same features through and through. 

Or at least that was what he thought until he saw her dad.

He was the spitting image of Max. They were nearly identical. Facial structure, eyes, nose, the whole shebang. The main difference between them was that he was a large man with a beard. Otherwise he might as well have been a carbon copy of her.

They both looked at him with strained smiles and teary eyes. The man not showing as much emotion as his wife in that way that typical males don’t. He stood behind her, not offering much physical comfort, but Warren had a feeling that his presence there was the only thing keeping his wife together, and vice-versa.

“Nice to meet you too,” Warren suddenly got a case of cotton-mouth. “I-I’m Warren. Graham. Er.”

“We know. Max has told us so much about you,” said the woman with a strained voice.

Warren perked up at that. “She has?”

“She said you were a smart lad. And one of the few friends she has here,” said the man, his voice tinged with approval.

_This would be fantastic had we met under different circumstances,_ Warren thought. The whole ‘meet the parents’ thing was going swimmingly, he just wished Max was there.

“Oh, but where are our manners?” The woman said, shaking her head. “My name is Vanessa, and this lumberjack you see here is Ryan.”

“Hey, now,” said the man with a stretched smile.

Warren admired that they found it in them to keep their humor during these difficult times. He knew it couldn’t have been easy for them.

“Mark tells us that you were the first one that noticed she was missing. Can you tell us what happened?” Vanessa asked kindly, but there was an urgent tone to her voice.

“The last time I saw her was on Monday. We had history class together in the morning,” Warren began, and saw them staring at him with rapt attention. “I texted her to meet me after school but she never showed up. Or replied to my texts, for that matter.”

He left out the confrontation with Nathan. Warren genuinely believed he had nothing to do with her being gone, at least not directly. The scene Nathan described in the bathroom sounded interesting though, and he made a mental note to check it out when he had the chance.

“And that’s when you knew something was wrong?” Vanessa replied, encouraging him to go on.

“Not really. I mean, I had just seen her that _morning._ We passed notes during class. I mean yeah she didn’t answer my texts, but she did that sometimes. I assumed her phone ran out of battery or something.”

“Max was present during all of her classes that day, including mine.” Jefferson stepped in. “I admit, she was a bit ‘spaced out’, but in all honesty that wasn’t considered out of the usual for her.”

“And then?”

“Well, after that I kept looking for her,” Warren said. “I texted her all day on Tuesday but she hadn’t replied. I asked some friends around and they hadn’t seen her. I thought something was off but I didn’t realize _how off_ until Kate.” 

“We heard about that, that poor girl,” Vanessa said sadly, placing a hand on her heart.

“Kate and Max were really close. They would go out together for tea sometimes. It’s just, there was no _way_ Max wouldn’t have been around while that happened.”

“She wasn’t at my class that day either,” Jefferson said.

“Why didn’t you report her absence to the authorities that day then?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Caulfield, after Kate’s suicide the school was very hectic and disorganized. The faculty have had to deal with the press, the family, and the authorities. And Max is a new student, and very quiet. From what I understand she didn’t have much in the way of friends outside of Miss Marsh and Mr. Graham. Nobody suspected she had been missing during that time.”

“And nobody _would’ve_ noticed if he hadn’t reported it! How long would it have been if Warren hadn’t noticed? _Weeks?”_

“I understand your grief and we take full responsibility for our carelessness. But rest assured we will find your daughter.”

“You haven’t found Rachel Amber! If anything you’ve forgotten about her! Is that what’s going to happen to my little girl?”

Warren wanted to evaporate. Ryan’s outburst had attracted a few onlookers and Warren was worried the reporters would hear it as well.

“I promise you,” said Jefferson, the tone of his voice harder and cooler than Warren had ever heard it, “I will do everything in my power to find Max. You have my word.”

“Your _word_ is--”

“Ryan.” Vanessa’s harsh tone cut through his words like a knife. They exchanged a look only those who had been married for decades would understand. If Warren was better at reading expressions he might’ve deciphered it. As it was, Ryan’s shoulders slumped and he fixed Jefferson with a regretful look.

“I’m sorry, Mark. It’s my little girl. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her.”

“I understand. I apologize if I seemed distant; I cared about Max a lot during her time here.”

“She loved your work, you know. It was the whole reason she came to study here,” Vanessa said and Jefferson gave her a gentle smile. “Did you know she started taking pictures when she was eight? Before that, she would draw what she wanted to capture, so we gave her a camera and she’s wanted to be a photographer ever since.”

“Vanessa, I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear that story.”

“No, I’d love to hear more about Max.” Jefferson started to leave with Max’s parents before he turned to Warren and said, “There’s going to be a volunteer search party tonight. You’re welcome to help.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Mr. Jefferson.”

“No, thank _you._ Without you this wouldn’t have been possible.”

ooo

The boys’ dormitories was mostly empty, with a lot of the guys still gathered at the courtyard, but Warren didn’t see Nathan. He was probably holed up in his room. He had no idea how he managed to get inside the dorms with the reporters blocking the main entrance, but he figured the self-proclaimed ‘King of Blackwell’ had his ways.

He was about to check up on him when he saw that Warren’s room door had been vandalized. His picture had been blown up on a poster and his eyes and mouth were crossed out with purple markers. The words _BETA PHAG_ taunted him in large letters.

_Okay,_ Warren thought, _that’s creepy as fuck._ But it wasn’t anything new. Warren had been a target since middle school. He wished he could say he was used to it and threats didn’t faze him anymore, but he’d be lying. Warren threw a glance at the end of the hall in case he could see the culprit by any chance, but it was mostly empty.

A door opened to his left and Warren attempted to look casual and at the same time block the view of the poster, which led to the most uncasual position he’d ever found himself in. 

Warren let himself relax slightly when he realized it was only Luke. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey, dude. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just, ah, I just got here.” Warren leaned on his door frame using his body to shield Luke’s gaze from the poster. The last thing he needed was pity, or worse, mockery.

But Luke must’ve guessed something was up because he craned his neck to check behind Warren and saw the poster. He whistled. “Damn, that’s some mean shit.”

Well, no point hiding it. Warren started taking it down. “Yeah, well. What’re you gonna do?”

“That’s it? You’re just gonna let those bullies walk all over you?”

“It’s not that. I don’t even know who made it, what am I supposed to do?”

“This is obviously the work of Nathan, look at it. It’s sick.”

Warren _highly_ doubted it was Nathan. He was with the guy all day, it’s not like he had the time or the motive to vandalize a poster of his. Unless he was really dedicated and did it while Warren was outside, but again, unlikely.

“I don’t think it was Nathan,” Warren said pensively.

“Why not? The guy’s fucked up in the head. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“He wasn’t even at the campus today. I haven’t done anything either. I don’t think it could’ve been him.” Unless you count stink-bombing him and Victoria, but Nathan didn’t know that.

Luke seemed unconvinced but shrugged. “Then one of the Vortex Club jocks could have done it. Point is, it’s unfair and childish to pick on someone lesser than you.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re a smart guy, Warren. I’ve seen you in science class. They’re probably just jealous you’re going to become someone while they burn out in college.”

Warren felt an involuntary smile stretch his lips. He didn’t get compliments from people his own age very frequently. In fact, he could probably count the times someone has said something nice about him in one hand. The unexpected praise left him speechless, and he barely stuttered a ‘thanks’ under his breath.

“Anyways, the guys are playing _Melee_ at Justin’s dorm right now. Do you wanna hang out with us?”

He felt like he could explode. During his time at Blackwell, he’d only made friends with girls, because they weren’t cruel to him. Guys either bullied or ignored him with no in between. Now they were inviting him to play _video games_ with them. How fucking cool was that? 

He was about to give an enthusiastic _yes_ when his eyes flicked to the door right across from his and he remembered why he went there in the first place.

_Shit._

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he really was, “but I’m kinda busy right now. I got some stuff to do.”

“A’ight, dude. No problem.”

“Maybe next time?” Warren asked with a sliver of hope.

“Sure. Actually, we’re having a LAN party tomorrow after the game, during the after party. You’re free to join, if you want. We’re playing _Left 4 Dead.”_

“A LAN party? How are you gonna play _Left 4 Dead_ with Blackwell’s shitty wifi?”

“Justin knows the Admin password for the faculty wifi. 70 mbps, if you can believe it.”

“Shit dude, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, plays like a dream.”

At that moment, door across from them flung open. Both Warren and Luke jumped, startled. Warren relaxed once he saw Nathan, but Luke stiffened. 

“Yo,” he said.

He looked as dishevelled as ever, with the dark circles under his eyes standing out against his pale complexion. His arm rested on the doorframe, his other hand gripped the door handle. He blocked most of the view inside his room; the only thing Warren could tell from it was that it was really dark. 

Luke scowled at Nathan, and he mirrored his expression. The tension in the hallway suddenly shot up as they stared each other down. In the end, Luke was the first to give in, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Catch you later, Warren,” he said, before returning to Justin’s room and slamming the door.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Warren asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Nathan shrugged. “I don’t even know who he is.”

“I don’t think he likes you.”

“Most people don’t.” Well, that was true. If he was being completely honest, Warren wasn’t even sure he liked him. He was a jerk and suspicious as fuck, but he did have a fun side, even if it only showed when he was high.

“Nice poster,” he said, and Warren frowned in confusion until he realized he was still holding the vandalized _BETA PHAG_ poster right in front of him.

He crumpled it up, not willing to give Nathan an answer. Nathan didn’t do it. He was sure of that much.

“Anyways, how would you like to make some money?”

Warren perked up, not exactly sure where Nathan was going with that. 

“What do you mean?”

“I wanna take a shower,” he said and pulled a shower basket seemingly out of thin air, “but I need the bathrooms to be completely empty.”

“Yeah, I did notice you were starting to reek,” Warren commented without thinking.

And he regretted it as soon as he saw Nathan’s face. He and his big mouth. _“Listen here, you fuckwad--”_

Warren wasn’t sure that counted as an emergency, but he did have a few seconds left of rewind. He _really_ hoped his powers were the rechargeable kind.

“I wanna take a shower, but I need the bathrooms to be completely empty.”

“Where do I fit in?”

“I’ll pay you fifty bucks to stand outside the bathroom and keep people from coming in.”

_Fifty bucks?_ That was a shit ton of money for standing around doing nothing. And though he needed the money (his promise to Chloe still remained in the back of his head), he couldn’t, under his good conscience accept it. “You don’t have to pay me, I’ll do it for free.”

“God, what’s with you people? Either take it or I’ll find someone else.”

Welp, that settled it. “Okay then.”

“Awesome.”

Warren followed him to the bathroom and, after making sure the coast was clear and the bathroom was empty, stood outside the door with his arms crossed over his chest, hoping to look intimidating or at least unwelcoming. He felt like a bodyguard looking out for some sort of celebrity and he had to admit, it was pretty badass. Warren got deep into the fantasy with explosions and martial arts after his employer got kidnapped and he had to travel around the country--no, the _world_ \-- in order to save him. The time powers were a plus.

Warren was jolted from his daydream when someone smacked him in the shoulder. “I said _move,_ jackass,” said the person he wanted to see the least.

Logan and Zachary were standing in front of him, arms crossed and jerseys slicked with sweat. Warren’s nose scrunched up at the smell of dirt and football. 

“Uh, you can’t go in right now.”

“Bullshit. Me and Logan always come here to shower after practice.”

“Aren’t there showers at the gym? Why didn’t you go there?”

“The whole team showers there and they use up all the hot water. So move _phag,_ unless you want a repeat of Tuesday.”

If he tried, Warren could faintly feel his skin tingle from the burn. Normally he would have caved, every skin cell he had was screaming _move,_ but he made a promise to Nathan. 

“I’m not moving.”

“Fuck this. Are we football players or what?” said Logan, who pushed past Zachary to stare Warren down. He and Zachary exchanged a look, like last time, and they reached down to grab him. Warren tried desperately to rewind, but his time was up.

Logan had grabbed him by the front of the shirt when the bathroom door opened. Warren could’ve cried from relief when he saw Nathan’s familiar scowl.

“The fuck’s going on here?”

“This prick said we couldn’t go in the bathroom, so we’re gonna teach him nobody messes with us.”

“Or the Vortex Club,” Zachary added, as if to gain points from Nathan.

“Well no shit. I paid him to keep everyone out, jackasses,” Nathan said, showing them a $50 bill. Warren didn’t even know those existed.

Logan and Zachary eyed the cash with envy. “Seriously? You should’ve just asked us. _We’re_ actually bodyguard material.” 

_“You_ weren’t around. Let go of him, Logan.”

“But--”

“Let go of him, or I’m cutting you off.”

Logan blanched and hastily let go of Warren, who stumbled a bit trying to regain balance. Zachary’s eyebrows drew in confusion. “What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing. Let’s go. We’ll shower with the others.”

Zachary’s glare promised retribution at some point in the future, but at that moment, Warren didn’t care. He watched them exit the building, Zachary hounding Logan with questions. 

“Holy shit,” the tension escaped Warren in one long exhale.

“Here,” Nathan said, offering the money to Warren.

“Thanks.” Nathan looked a lot better now that he had a shower. His hair was wet and all over the place, but he didn’t look quite as pale and sick as he did a few hours ago. The dirt and blood had been scraped from his skin, and it looked like he replaced the bandage of his skin, but not the ones on his knuckles.

He was wearing a blue-green hooded puffer jacket with a blue longsleeved shirt underneath and what seemed to be a plaid dress shirt underneath _that._ Warren had no idea how he could wear so many layers indoors. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t look good. Not that Warren knew anything about fashion.

“Come on,” Nathan said, walking out of the dormitory and gesturing for Warren to follow. “Let’s go get your shitty car.”

ooo

Both Warren’s and Nathan’s stomachs rumbled simultaneously as soon as they got in the car. It was getting late, the sky had begun to darken gradually. If you looked at the horizon you would see tinges of pink and blue mingling with the orange and red of a setting sky. It was getting colder too, Warren regretted not bringing a jacket and secretly envied Nathan’s multiple layers.

They ignored the first growl, but by the third one, Nathan swerved the car harshly to the right. Warren’s head banged against the window at the sharp turn. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“I’m making a stop at a Wendy’s somewhere.”

“Why don’t we just eat the the Two Whales’? We’re literally going there.”

“I don’t _want_ to go there.” 

“Seriously man, what’s your beef with Two Whales’?”

“I don’t have a _beef_ , I don’t wanna fucking go!”

“Really? ‘Cause last time I mentioned going there you acted like you had sand up your boxers.”

“Graham, I swear to fucking _GOD_ if you don’t shut the fuck up right NOW I’m going to swerve this car into that fucking tree and kill us both!”

Warren grit his teeth to keep himself from uttering a comeback and potentially getting himself killed. They were both hungry and tired and stressed, he tried to remind himself. His head throbbed from the hit against the windshield and he could have sworn he would have a bump in a few minutes, but at least he didn’t have any time traveling-induced migraines. 

They pulled up to a Wendy’s drive thru a few minutes later. Warren’s mouth watered at the cosmetically enhanced pictures of burgers on the menu. His stomach reminded him once again that he hadn’t eaten anything at all that day. Nathan must’ve been thinking the same thing because he subconsciously licked his lips while poring over the menu.

“I want a Baconator,” Warren said.

“No, fuck off.”

“I’ll pay for it, just order it for me.”

“I thought you wanted to eat at the diner, asshole.”

“Not when there’s a perfectly good Baconator waiting for me.”

They pulled up to the intercom and the server’s static voice asked them what they wanted.

“I want a grilled chicken sandwich with coke, cheese fries, and a vanilla frosty.”

Warren secretly approved of Nathan’s order, his mouth salivating even more. The server repeated the order at them and asked them if they needed anything else. 

Nathan’s mouth opened in an ‘no’ shape, but Warren leaned over him before the word would come out.

“I’d also like a Baconator, please,” he yelled at the intercom.

Nathan looked like he wanted to flat-out murder him and Warren made an actual physical effort not to flinch away. 

“Medium or Large?”

“Large. Oh and I’d like a side of chili, diet coke, and a chocolate frosty.”

“Will that be all, sir?”

Nathan spoke up before he could and gave the server a snappy ‘yes’ before stepping his foot on the gas hard enough to make Warren slam back into his seat. Then, when he pulled up at the window he hit the brakes hard enough to make him lurch forward.

“Dude, what the fuck is your problem?” Warren asked, rubbing at the spot where the seatbelt choked him.

“What’s _your_ problem?”

They sat there glaring at each other waiting until the server came with their food. It was completely dark now, the only light coming from inside the window; a soft yellow that framed Nathan’s face and glowed through his hair.

Then the window opened and the server, a short woman with a look of perpetual boredom on her face, gave them their drinks. Warren gave Nathan a ten dollar bill to cover his own order, and Nathan took it from his hands harshly. The server gave them their food inside paper bags that were wet at the bottom with grease, and Nathan handed them to Warren while he handled the change.

Not able to wait much longer, Warren reached into the bags and started eating some of the fries while Nathan looked for a place to park. He chose a secluded spot underneath a broken lamp post. Warren couldn’t see much of what he was eating in the dark and had to rely on the car’s headlights and illuminated buttons to see anything at all. 

He nearly moaned at the wonderful greasy flavor of the french fries and how the cheap cheese stuck to the roof of his mouth. After a day of eating absolutely nothing at all, it was almost like ambrosia. 

His hands stilled when he remembered he didn’t order cheese fries.

Warren hastily set the remaining fries down and wiped his hands on the napkins, hoping Nathan hadn’t noticed him gorging on his food.

But of course he did, because Warren’s life was like that. “What the _fuck?_ Did you just eat my shit? Do you have a fucking deathwish?” Nathan said, snatching his bag from Warren’s grasp.

“I didn’t notice, I swear! I can pay it back, if you want.”

“I don’t want your money, I want my fucking fries!”

“Well, I, uh,” Warren floundered, not quite sure what to say except apologize.

It turned out he didn’t have to say anything because Nathan reached over to his bag and pulled out the frosty. Warren watched helplessly as he uncapped it and took a large chunk of his frosty with his mouth.

“Yeah, I probably deserved that,” he said miserably.

Then he witnessed as Nathan reached into his bag yet _again,_ and pulled out his chili. Warren tried stopping him, but he was too fast, and shoved his spoon into the cup and ate the chili as well. 

“Aw dude, no! Those were my beans!”

“You should’ve fucking thought of that before you ate my fries.”

Warren had never wished he had his rewind power more than at that moment.

 

Aside from that, the rest of the meal went quietly and without incident. He had to admit, even if it was with Nathan Prescott, he really enjoyed sitting in the privacy of an air-conditioned car eating cheap fast food. It reminded him of the drive-in he wanted to go with Max, which was on Saturday, and suddenly he didn’t feel so content anymore.

“So was this it?” Warren asked, eating whatever remained of his frosty. 

“Was what it?” He was eating his own frosty, but he preferred to drink the melted liquid instead of using a spoon like Warren.

“Max. She’s still gone. And Rachel’s missing too. Are we gonna keep looking for them?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said somberly.

“So what’s the plan?”

Nathan gave a derisive snort. “We didn’t find anything today. Nada. I’ve got nothing.”

_On the contrary,_ Warren thought, _I found a lot, I just don’t know what to make of it._ He really wished he had more time to figure things out. Why he could see Max only when rewinding, what was she doing, when did it happen, etc. Not to mention his own powers. The time limit, the headaches, the doe, the teleportation. If he wasn’t so concerned about Max he would have dedicated his time to doing research, but it already felt like he was going against the clock (Warren chuckled internally at the accidental pun), he just didn’t have time to figure them out. 

It didn’t help that he couldn’t tell Nathan anything about that either.

“Why don’t we look into Rachel for now? Maybe we’ll find out what happened to Max too.”

Nathan didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyways. “Where do we start?”

“We could look into Rachel’s connections. I’m sure there’s stuff about her a lot of people don’t know. And then, I don’t know, build up from there.”

It was a very vague and half-assed plan, but it was all they had. “Then we’d better fucking hurry before it’s too late.”

Warren didn’t like the way that sounded, but logically, he had to agree. Nathan reignited the car and began his drive to the diner.

Warren’s eyes began to droop during the ride back to town. He sat with his elbow leaning on the edge of the window, his cheek resting on his hand. Outside, he could have sworn he saw two full moons shining in the sky, but he was too tired for that shit. Nathan didn’t seem to notice, as he drove slower than usual with his back hunched over and watching the road with half-lidded eyes. Each of Warren’s blinks lasted longer than the previous’ and his breathing slowed until he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again.


	7. -RA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Remember when I said I wanted the chapters to get shorter? Here's a whopping 20k for you!
> 
> If anyone reads this in one sitting please tell me so that I may congratulate you on your endurance and dedication.

_October 11_

Nathan opened eyes he did not know he had closed.

It took him a while to figure out what happened, such as why the fuck was he upright and why his neck hurt so goddamn much. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to get them to reorient themselves faster when he heard the sound of soft snoring coming from his right. 

He whipped his head to the sound to find Warren Graham in deep sleep. His head was leaning on the windshield in a position Nathan knew would be painful for his neck, if only because his own experienced the same thing. His mouth was slightly ajar and his body was curled towards the door with his hands folded underneath his armpits. 

Nathan wondered if he ever looked half as peaceful while sleeping.

Seeing him made everything come back to him at once. Max, the junkyard, Wendy’s, the diner. Warren had fallen asleep at some point and Nathan didn’t think to wake him. He managed to drowsily drive to the Two Whales’, his own head bobbing trying to keep himself awake. In the end he couldn’t manage it.

He read the dim glow of his car’s clock. 8:54 PM. But his clock was always wrong so he did the math quickly in his head and learned it was actually 3:24 AM.

He debated waking Warren up until he realized he was _debating waking Warren up,_ and honked his horn loudly. Warren, of course, jerked awake and smacked his head against the windshield before scrambling around trying to figure out where he was.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Get out of my car,” Nathan said, his own voice sounding groggy and slow. 

“What the— What? What’s going— What?” As _endearing_ as it was watching one of the smartest kids in Blackwell sputter around like a confused hotdog, Nathan really wanted him to leave.

_A “confused hotdog”? I really am tired as fuck._

“Nathan, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me, dumbass. You fell asleep in my car, now it’s time for you to go.”

Warren rubbed at his eyes similarly to how Nathan did earlier. “Shit, what time is it?” When Nathan didn’t answer, he looked up at the clock. “It’s only 9?”

“Yep,” Nathan lied. “Time to go.”

Warren opened the car door and cursed at the freezing October wind. He stopped just before stepping out, with one foot outside on the gravel and the other still inside the car and asked, “So, are we meeting again tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Meet me here at 7.”

 _“7?”_ Warren nearly squealed. “I hope you mean 7 PM, buddy.” _Jesus fucking Christ…_

“No, 7 AM, before class starts. Are we skipping today?”

“I ‘unno,” Warren yawned. “But why 7? Let’s meet at 9.”

“What? No way.” The deadline was _tonight,_ Nathan needed all the time he could get.

“8:30 then. But that’s as far as I’ll go.”

 _Oh for the love of—_ “Fine. 8:30 it is, then. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” said Warren before shutting the door closed and walking back to his car.

Nathan didn’t know why he waited in the parking lot to make sure Warren got in his car or why he stayed until he drove off.

ooo

The Prescott estate stood proud and menacing perched on a hill overlooking the sea. It was isolated at about a thirty minute drive away from the diner. The lights on the porch were on and cast a harsh glow on the rest of the house. Inside was dark and cold despite the heater running 24/7. 

Nathan removed his shoes the same way he did while sneaking out of Blackwell. He did it out of habit, from when his midnight runs would actually have consequences. Back then when his family cared about him. 

The wooden staircase creaked underneath his feet. Years of use by different generations of Prescotts had worn them down but his father refused to get them replaced. Nathan always imagined them breaking off underneath his step and trapping his leg.

Portraits of his predecessors framed the walls. Generation after generation of Prescott power and douchebaggery staring down at him with judging eyes. As a kid he would often run from side to side trying to figure out if the eyes were following him. His nanny would cover the paintings with a cloth at his behest and removed them as soon as his father would get home.

The lights were on at his father’s home office, casting an orange glow over the inky blackness of the hallway. Nathan prayed that the lights were on by accident and that his father was asleep at the other end of the hall. He considered turning back and staying at Blackwell after all, but he was too tired and it was too much work. The only way to get to his room was passing in front of the office, so he squared his shoulders and headed on.

Nathan didn’t dare look inside as he stalked past and actually believed he had gotten out scot-free but a low voice called out to him as soon as he passed by. “It’s late,” it said.

He cursed under his breath and considered ignoring him but nobody ever ignored Sean Prescott. “I could say the same to you,” he said, turning back and leaning on the doorway.

Sean didn’t look up at him, his gaze was focused on some papers he was reading through. He was used to Nathan’s insolence and learned some time ago that he couldn’t beat it out of him, so he remained quiet, but his disapproval was evident in the slightest wrinkle in his brow. “Sit down, Nathan.”

His office resembled Principal Wells’s; with the main exceptions being that there was no window overlooking the courtyard and that the books that surrounded them weren’t just for decoration. Even so, it was far more luxurious than a high school principal’s office ever could be. A small, practical chandelier hung at the center of the room, above Sean’s desk, and the furniture was made out of redwood giving the room a warm splendor. The room was decorated with antiques and animal heads. Like Well’s office, two chairs sat before the main desk, though they were made out of leather. Nathan sat in one of them, the cushion making a high-pitched sound at the friction.

Sean signed a document with flourish before putting the pen down and looking at Nathan. “Tell me what’s been going on at your school.”

He slouched the same way he would have if he was sitting in front of Wells. “You know what’s been going on. You watch the news.”

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

Nathan rolled his eyes before answering. “A girl killed herself two days ago and now it turns out another one is missing. They’re looking for her.” _So am I, but for different reasons,_ he didn’t say.

“Yes, it’s a real tragedy. I ask because I’ve been considering funding their search party, but first I wanted to know what was going on from a point of view outside the media. What else do you know?”

Nathan gripped the arms of the chair instinctively and a disapproving scowl appeared on Sean’s face. At first he was confused until he remembered his knuckles. _Great._ He ignored the change in atmosphere and kept talking. “Nothing. Her name was Max Caulfield, she was a photography student, and she vanished off the face of the Earth. They’re reopening Rachel’s case because of it.”

“Nathan.”

He swallowed and tried not to let his anxiousness show. It brought him a deja vu of the similar situation in Wells’s office. He removed his hands from the chair and placed them over his crotch. “What?”

Sean shifted on his chair and intertwined his fingers together. “You understand that I need you to keep yourself _calm and quiet_ while Pan Estates is being developed.” 

“I have been.”

“Then explain _that,”_ Sean said, pointing to his hands.

“I didn’t get into a fight if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then tell me what it was.”

Nathan didn’t talk about his illness with his father. He couldn’t. He knew it, and Sean knew it, but they never talked about it. The elephant in the room. Sean knew he was sick and he talked about therapy in a cold, detached way. Like a business meeting or a dental appointment. Sean never could understand what he was going through and he never would.

“I forgot my medication. That’s it.” 

Sean exhaled loudly through his nose. “Dr. Bill doesn’t come back from his book tour until the end of next week. We already have an appointment set up for you. In the meantime, you _need_ to take your medication if you ever hope to get better. Do you understand?”

Nathan hated Dr. Bill and his father hated any other psychiatrist that didn’t just prescribe him a hundred pills and reminded him that everything was his fault. “Yeah.”

Sean distracted himself by organizing the papers in front of him, but Nathan knew that was just his way of coping with an uncomfortable subject. “Wasn’t your party supposed to be today?” He quickly changed the subject.

“Wells cancelled it.”

The paper shuffling stopped, but he still wasn’t looking at Nathan. “I had already talked to him and we agreed it had been a poor decision. You’re telling me he still cancelled it?”

“Yeah, but that was after the Kate thing.”

“There’s talk that he might get fired from his position. Perhaps barred from the entire education system.”

“Good riddance,” Nathan said.

After a few minutes of silence and careful thought, Sean stood from the desk and turned his back to Nathan, inspecting the books on the shelf. “Son,” he said, removing a file hidden between two thick tomes, “there’s something I need you to do.”

ooo

Nathan woke up as groggy as he had fallen asleep. Prying his eyes open took some physical exertion, but he knew that once awake there would be no going back to sleep. He blinked blearily at the clock on his bedside; it was exactly six in the morning. With a yawn, he crawled himself out of bed and got himself dressed with the same clothes he’d worn the previous day. He sniffed them before putting them on to make sure they were clean.

He went through his daily routine in the dark. He blindly searched his drawers for his medicine and grabbed a now-warm bottle of water he always kept by them. Some pills required to be swallowed, others dissolved on their own. He never bothered reading the label.

His room had a bathroom of his own. This time he turned on the lights. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes as they grew accustomed to the light. Nathan squinted at the sink, putting off looking at the mirror. 

His bandages had turned a rusty, copper-ish brown. As much as he hated the thought of it, Nathan did really have to change them in case the wound didn’t heal properly, or worse, if it stuck to the bandages and he’d have to reapply them all over again. He carefully slipped them off, breathing out in relief when they didn’t stick to his skin. The wound underneath them was gruesome, but it looked significantly better than before. 

He changed his mind about applying new ones and decided to leave it unbandaged. They would be fine so long as he didn’t do anything that would reopen the wound.

Nathan braced himself and looked up at the mirror. Another sigh of relief escaped his lips. He looked nowhere near as bad as the day before. His hair was in a state of curly disarray, but he could easily fix that with some styling gel and a comb. He removed the bandage off his chin and inspected the wound underneath. Like his knuckles, a dark scab had formed but it wasn’t infected. It would heal with time and that was all Nathan cared about.

He fixed his hair and slapped some cologne on his throat so as to resemble some kind of normalcy. Jefferson’s deadline was in fourteen hours. If he didn’t find Max in fourteen hours, Victoria would be taken to San Francisco and turned into an exhibit. 

Jefferson had talked about it and expressed his regret that Nathan could not be there for the learning experience. But it was a business and as a business they had several interested clients. It was a photoshoot but Jefferson wasn’t going to be the only photographer and Victoria wasn’t going to be the only subject. 

It was sick and Nathan would die before he let Victoria go through that.

His phones had been turned off the previous day. He wanted to avoid distraction while looking for Max and any more panic if Jefferson decided to remind him of the deadline. When the anxiety had started to become overwhelming he did what he did best—get high. He had long since learned how to control himself right before hitting the pipe so that his anxiety wouldn’t get worse during his high and he’d be able to let himself relax for a few hours. He didn’t regret it.

Nathan, admittedly, thought Warren would have been more useful. The guy acted like he didn’t know anything, yet at the same time, he acted like he knew too much. He wondered if his initial assumption of him being easy and predictable had been wrong. Still, Nathan didn’t have a choice. It was the only help he had.

It was still risky. Max seemed to have vanished from the face of the planet without a trace. No breadcrumb trail, no witnesses, nothing. The only thing they could follow was Rachel’s trail but even that was assuming that they both had the same fate. It was a bad plan, but, again, it was all he had.

Nathan turned on his personal phone first and a flood of text messages appeared on his phone. Most of them were from Vortex Club members, outraged that the party had been cancelled, several of them were from Victoria asking where he was, and one of them was from his father asking him to come home. So _that_ was why he was awake so late. He was expecting him.

He clicked on most of the messages without reading them, just to make the notification go away, but he carefully read Victoria’s texts.

**[Victoria, Yesterday 2:03 PM]**

_Seriosuly Nathan, where are you??_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 2:10 PM]**

_Open the door, Im outside_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 2:12 PM]**

_You better NOT be in your fuckin room, i s2g_ >:(

**[Victoria, Yesterday 2:25 PM]**

_Hayden said you looked pretty bad today are u ok??_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 2:25 PM]**

_Answer me._

**[Victoria, Yesterday 3:12 PM]**

_Youre not pissed at me right?_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 4:32 PM]**

_There are tv reporters everywhere I think Wells is getting fired_ \\( ^ v ^ )/

**[Victoria, Yesterday 4:32 PM]**

_Serves him right tbh_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 4:55 PM]**

_Theyre saying Max got kidnapped or mudered_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 4:57 PM]**

_This is so fucking weird_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 7:31 PM]**

_ZACHARY SAID HE SAW YOU EARLIER HAVE YOU BEEN IGNORING ME???_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 7:35 PM]**

_Seriously Nathan??? Youve been acting really weird, are you okay?_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 7:59 PM]**

_Just answer this and Ill stop bugging you_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 8:23 PM]**

_You know I care about you right?_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 8:33 PM]**

_I want to help but you gotta let me in, you cant keep doing this to yourself_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 8:34 PM]**

_Just know Ill be there for you no matter what, k?_

**[Victoria, Yesterday 8:34 PM]**

:*

Nathan was really lucky to have Victoria. He felt like shit for worrying her like that and typed up a quick response.

 **[You, Today 6:22 AM** ]

_srry my phone was off im ok_

Her reply came before he could put his phone down.

**[Victoria, Today 6:22 AM]**

_Oh ok. Dont do that again I was really worried_

Judging by how fast that was, he guessed she slept with the phone under her pillow in case he replied. His lips twitched involuntarily.

**[You, Today 6:22 AM]**

_sorry babe. go get ur beauty rest, god knows you need it._

**[Victoria, Today 6:23 AM]**

_Not as much as you_ ;P

Nathan turned on his disposable phone next. There was a message, but it wasn’t from Jefferson, Nathan noted with relief. 

**[Unknown, Yesterday 7:39 PM]**

_You coming? I need to know, heard pigs are patrolling the beach tonight. If you want anything, you’re paying double._

He forgot to tell Frank that the party was cancelled, but, unsurprisingly, Nathan didn’t feel bad for making the guy wait. 

Grabbing the rest of his shit and hiding his gun on the inside of his puffer vest, Nathan stepped out of the cool room and into the hallway outside. Warren said they’d meet at 8:30, but Nathan would rather wait at the diner than at his house. He really hoped Faith or—whatever her name was—had left and Joyce was back at work. 

He walked down the stairs without looking where he was going, his eyes glued to his phone looking through his contacts with the intention of texting Warren in the unlikely chance that he was awake. He saw his nanny-slash-maid mopping the floor below him out of his peripheral vision and greeted her distractedly, “Buenos días, Sonia.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Prescott,” a much younger voice with an American accent greeted him. He stopped suddenly, with one foot floating in the air. Nathan whipped his head up and saw a girl, around his age but probably younger, her gaze averted to her task.

“You’re not Sonia,” he pointed out.

She cleared her throat softly. “I’m Rosa. Her granddaughter. She’s out sick and she asked me to take over for her.”

“Is she okay?” Nathan asked.

Rosa must’ve not expected that question as the surprise was evident in her raised eyebrows and open mouth. “She wasn’t hospitalized or anything, but the doctor suggested she take it easy for a while. She should be back in about a week.”

Nathan nodded, understanding. He looked Rosa up and down. She had tanned skin and long black hair pulled tightly into a bun. She was a frail thing, more bones than meat, but he knew from years shopping with Victoria that her lipstick and eyeshadow were expensive. “And my dad said it was okay for you to fill in for her?” Sean always handpicked who worked for him. He was nothing if not fastidious and had several requirements for a house staff: hard work, loyalty, and discretion. 

“Mr. Prescott doesn’t know. Grandma said it was okay, though.”

“Uh-huh. And did she tell you the rules?”

Rosa’s eyes flitted to the ceiling as she remembered. She let the mop lean on her and took her fingers out, counting them. “Don’t steal anything, don’t bother Mr. Prescott while he’s working, don’t go into your room while you’re around—”

He interrupted her. A bubble of rage formed in his belly. “No, don’t go into my room ever! Has Sonia been going into my room? That fucking… Whatever, just don’t go in or getting fired will be the least of your worries, capisce?”

Rosa nodded furiously. “Yes sir, Mr. Prescott, sir.”

“And don’t call me that.” Nathan took care to slam the door on his way out.

ooo

He realized at the Two Whales’ that he didn’t have Warren’s phone number. He sat hunched over in his seat with his elbows resting on the table, occasionally staring at the clock in an attempt to make the hour go by faster. 

Joyce still hadn’t returned. Hope was still there as her inferior replacement. She gave him an odd look when he walked in, probably remembering how he’d stormed out the previous day. But whatever. He was over it.

He didn’t order his usual. When Hope returned with his meal he glared at it as if it had offended him. He was the only customer that morning, weirdly enough. Not knowing what else to do, he ate his meal sullenly and played games on his phone until the hour passed.

 

An hour passed and Warren _still_ hadn’t arrived. Nathan snapped his head up whenever the bell on the door chimed, then snapped it back down with a growl whenever someone who wasn’t Warren walked in. It was eight _forty-five_ when he heard the door chime and a pair of shoes scrambling towards him.

“Hey man, sorry I’m—”

“You’re _late.”_ They both spoke at the same time. 

Warren looked sheepish. “Yeah, sorry. Lost track of time.”

He looked like he literally rolled out of bed, slapped on some clothes, and drove with the windows down. His hair was just as bad as Nathan’s the previous day and he had a bit of toothpaste in the corner of his lip which Nathan was quick to point out. Warren licked it off. 

“Give me your phone,” said Nathan, arm extended.

Warren looked confused, but handed it over without question. Idiot.

He dialed his personal number and saved it under ‘Prescott’. Then, he called it and saved Warren’s number in his own phone. “There,” he said, handing Warren his phone.

“Thanks.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Hope passed by their table and asked them if they wanted anything. Warren coincidentally ordered the same thing he did earlier. When Hope left, Warren’s eyes followed her.

“She’s cute,” he said.

Nathan stared at him incredulously, then scrunched his nose. “You need a new pair of eyes.”

“What? She is. Look at her,” he said, as if that proved his point.

“All I’m seeing is dollar-store lipstick and a haircut that was probably done by a five year old.”

“You have a thing against short hair? It’s cute.”

“Ah, I see what it is,” Nathan leaned over, a cheshire grin on his lips. “You have a thing for brunettes.”

Warren looked honest to god confused. “What gave you that idea?”

“Max had the same hair. I’m sensing a pattern here.”

Warren flushed. “So what?”

“Nothing.” Nathan gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Just trying to figure you out.”

“What about you?” Warren asked. “What do you like?”

“I don’t care for looks,” Nathan lied.

“Pssh, if you didn’t care you wouldn’t have been criticizing her like that.”

Touché. “Fine. Since you asked, I like brunettes too.”

“Victoria’s a blonde, though.”

“I’m not dating Victoria, dumbass. She’s like a sister to me.”

Warren’s food arrived and the waitress gave him a coquettish smile. Gross. She was probably several years older than them, no doubt she noticed Warren’s stare and wants to milk it for tips. “D’you need anything else, sweetheart?” She added a conscious lilt to her voice.

Nathan spoke before Warren had the chance. “Yeah, why don’t you fuck off?”

Warren stared at him wide-eyed. _“Dude, don’t be fucking rude,"_ he hissed at Nathan then turned to apologize to Hope, but she had scrammed. “What the fuck was that?”

“What?” Nathan asked, feigning confusion.

“What do you mean _what?_ That was rude as fuck, the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Excuse me if I don’t want her lingering in my line of sight.”

“God, why are you such a fucking asshole?” Warren asked, but the insult didn’t bounce off Nathan as it usually did. He scowled. 

“That cougar was just using you to get tips, jackass. I was _helping_ you.” Ungrateful prick.

“Of course she was, that’s her _job,_ Nathan. That doesn’t give you the right to disrespect someone.”

“You know what, fuck this.” Nathan said, then got up from the table and began to leave.

“Wait! What about Max?” Warren called out.

He stopped. Shit. He’d actually forgotten about that. For a few blessed minutes, he’d actually forgotten about the deadline. Nathan was so engrossed with his conversation with Warren he forgot why they were there in the first place. He weighed his chances of finding her without Warren’s help but decided it wasn’t worth it. He sat back down on the table, his hands clutching his knees in an attempt to keep the anger at bay. The pills could only do so much.

They spent the rest of the meal in heavy silence and Warren had since lost his appetite—resorting to picking at his food with the fork. Hope returned to ask if they needed anything and Warren declined, but didn’t look at her.

“So,” Nathan said, breaking the silence. “What do ya got?”

“What do you mean?” Warren halted his fork.

“A plan? Anything?”

“We could try Frank.”

“And then what?” Nathan asked.

“I don’t know, dude. Max didn’t exactly leave a trail. And I heard the search yesterday was a bust. It seems easier to track Rachel.”

An idea occurred to Nathan. “Maybe we can find a trail. The waitress here—Joyce, not Hope—has a daughter who was close to Max before she moved out. We could ask her for what she knows.”

Warren’s shoulders drooped and his eyebrows knit together in an uncharacteristic frown. If Nathan didn’t know any better, he’d say Warren looked guilty. Guilty of what?

“Actually I,” he hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck, “I tried that already.”

“You what?”

“Talking to her, I mean.”

“But how the fuck did you know?”

Warren took way too long for his answer to be credible, “Max talked. About her. So I asked.”

Nathan leaned over in his seat and gave Warren a look that could peel paint. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re lying?”

Warren raised his hands defensively. “I’m not!”

Nathan clenched his fists on the table. “Graham, I swear to _fucking god_ if you lie to me about this I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I’m not! Jesus, Nathan, I’m not lying.”

“You better have a good reason why you didn’t tell me about this yesterday.”

“I didn’t tell you about it because…” Warren’s sentence trailed off.

“Because?”

“It’s Chloe.” 

A sick feeling crawled up Nathan’s throat at the name. _Chloe was Joyce’s daughter?!_ “No way.”

“It’s true. I met her the other day and we looked for Max. Didn’t find anything, though. She didn’t even know Max was in Arcadia Bay.”

“Are you telling me Joyce mothered that, that,” Nathan struggled to find an appropriate word. “That _hellhound?”_

Warren shrugged. “I guess?”

“Fucking shit. Welp. There goes the last sliver of my hope,” Nathan waved his fingers as if it were flying away.

“What’s your deal with her anyway?” Warren asked. “I didn’t tell you before ‘cause I thought you had some issues with her, but she could really be useful.”

“I don’t have a _deal.”_

Warren gave him an unimpressed look. “Nathan,” he said flatly.

 _“Fine._ She’s a horrid, lying, thieving, manipulative snake and overall a detriment to humanity. She’s a terrible fucking person.”

“Max liked her, she couldn’t have been that bad,” was Warren’s shitty defense.

“Max has shown to have bad tastes in friends.” The words came out before Nathan realized it.

Warren frowned deeply and stiffly returned to pick at his food. He didn’t say anything, but tore his eggs apart with his fork like he was pretending it was Nathan. Nathan also pretended it was him.

He didn’t apologize, and Warren didn’t speak to him. Nathan stopped Hope as she passed by, asking for the bill. When she returned, he footed it mostly out of habit and partly as an apology. Not that he had anything to apologize for, he reminded himself.

“I’m not meeting with Chloe,” said Nathan. “But we could check out Frank. I know exactly where he is right now.”

“How would we do that?” Warren asked, still sulking.

“He’s either clueless or a liar, so asking him is out of the question. I say we sneak into his RV. See if he’s hiding something in there.”

Warren gave a one shouldered shrug. “Sure.”

Nathan rolled his eyes and led the way to the parking lot, Warren dragging his feet behind him.

He unlocked the door to his car and heard the footsteps behind him stop.

“What?” He asked.

“We’re going in my car,” Warren stated. 

_This again._ “I told you we’re not going in your shitty motherfucking car.”

“Either we’re going in my car or I’m not helping.” Warren declared, folding his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. He was bluffing. No way he would give up his search on Max. Did he finally catch on that Nathan needed him more than he needed Nathan?

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, he challenged.

Nathan sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose. He really couldn’t risk it. In any other circumstance he would have flipped Warren off, gotten in his car, and made several attempts to run him over, but the situation he found himself was not ideal to do any of those things.

He slammed the door to his car hard enough to have it shake on its wheels and started walking towards the shittiest car he’d ever seen.

Warren, however, seemed to have perked up at this as his frown had completely disappeared. He caught up to the car before Nathan did, and opened the passenger door with a flourish. “After you, m’lady.”

“Call me that one more time and my foot’s going up your ass,” Nathan said as he sat down.

Warren closed the door and did some kind of half-jog to the driver’s seat. He sat down and buckled his seatbelt. Nathan hadn’t. “Welcome to Warren’s car, I call it the _‘Time Machine’.”_

Nathan folded his arms in front of him. “That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”

“Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times, sit back, and enjoy your ride.”

“This is the lamest thing I’ve ever done,” Nathan remarked.

“You’re the first person that’s ever ridden in my brand-new car,” Warren turned the key to the ignition, and the engine purred like a cat with something stuck in his throat.

“‘Brand-new? This thing’s older than the both of us combined.”

“1978 to be exact,” Warren said. “Take a whiff of that new car smell.”

“It smells like mothballs and desperation.”

“That’s the smell of teen spirit,” said Warren as he backed out of the parking lot. 

“Can you turn on the air? It’s getting hot in here,” Nathan said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“The AC doesn’t work,” said Warren, and Nathan wanted to wring his neck. 

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yep.”

Nathan gritted his teeth and reached over to roll his window down, only to find out the handle wasn’t there.

“That window doesn’t roll down either,” Warren said, with a cheeky grin. That motherfucker. That fucking bitch-ass motherfucker. Nathan looked out the window and wondered how many bones would he break if he jumped out of a car going at thirty-five miles an hour.

“You son of a—” But the radio apparently worked because Warren turned it on and raised the volume loud enough that he didn’t have to hear Nathan’s profanity.

ooo

“It’s hot today,” commented Warren as they exited the car. Nathan delivered him a swift punch in the arm.

Warren recoiled and rubbed at his arm while muttering, “Probably deserved that,” under his breath. Nathan was drenched from head to toe in sweat. ‘Hot’ was an understatement. 

“You know, you could take off a few layers. I know it’s October, but today’s being unreasonably hot.” Warren had rolled up the sleeves to his sweatshirt. 

“It snowed a few days ago, how was I supposed to know?” Nathan did not roll up his sleeves.

“Anyway, what’s our plan?” Warren asked.

They were parked off a dirt path that circled the beach, hidden away from view by a frame of bushes and palm trees. Nathan leaned on a trunk, thankful for the shade it provided. Frank’s RV was within sight, with the man himself sitting on a lawn chair underneath an umbrella.

“We need to get him away from the RV somehow.”

Nathan thought he heard Warren mutter something about ‘stinkbombs’ but when he inquired what he was talking about Warren flushed and said it was nothing. Nathan rolled his eyes. Fucking weirdo. 

“We need a distraction,” Warren said. 

“I have an idea,” said Nathan. “You’re probably not gonna like it.”

“Shoot.”

“I need a dog.”

ooo

Nathan was right, Warren didn’t like the idea. It took some convincing, but he managed to get Warren to go through with it. They found a stray pretty quickly and lured it with some potato chips from a vending machine. Once it was distracted, Warren grabbed it by the torso and struggled to calm it down. He clamped his hand on its jaws to keep it from biting.

“Shh, shhhh, it’s okay, baby. It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Nathan heard Warren whisper to it’s ear. The dog kept kicking and whining and Warren himself looked like he was about to cry. Nathan rolled his eyes. Dog lovers. “How do you know this will work?”

“Frank’s got a boner for dogs. Now hold her still,” Nathan said. “I’m gonna tie her up.”

“With what?”

Nathan looked around but there wasn’t anything they could use. Looking down at himself, he found the one thing he could use. Grumbling to himself, he started to undress.

“Uhh, what are you doing?” Asked Warren.

“You’re right, I don’t need so many layers.” Nathan removed the longsleeved navy blue shirt he was wearing under the vest, keeping care that the gun didn’t accidentally slip out. When he was done all that remained was the puffer and the plaid dress shirt. He carefully hogtied the dog’s legs together with his shirt, feeling worse for the shirt than for the dog. It didn’t hurt the dog, he kept assuring Warren, just made it uncomfortable and probably scared the shit out of it. 

“Now, we take her to Frank.”

 

They left it in a patch of dirt behind some bushes that was close enough to Frank’s trailer for him to hear the dog’s whines. From their own rendezvous point, they watched him get up from his lawn chair and head toward that direction. 

“Okay, go.”

Nathan and Warren sneaked into the trailer from behind once they made sure Frank was out of sight. Warren’s hand clamped on Nathan’s when he placed it on the knob. _“What?”_ He whispered, annoyed.

“Frank has a dog,” Warren said. Nathan noticed he he had a thin layer of sweat perched on his brow and his expression looked pained.

“Oh shit, that’s right. I forgot about that mutt.”

“If you open the door, he’s gonna jump out. We can move out of the way and get in the trailer before he rounds back,” said Warren. “But getting back out might be a problem.”

Nathan had no idea how Warren knew that information, but it seemed sound. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Bracing himself to run, Nathan swung open the door to Frank’s trailer and quickly moved out of the way. Sure enough, Frank’s mutt jumped out of it, mouth frothing and teeth bared. Nathan felt lucky he wasn’t in the receiving end of those jaws. Him and Warren scrambled to get inside as fast as they could, then shut the door. Warren was slower than usual and seemed to favor his left leg. That was new.

“Are you okay?” Asked Nathan, frowning, when he saw Warren lean on the doorframe for balance.

“Yeah,” he said, unconvincingly. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Frank’s trailer was still the same shithole from two days ago. The smell of weed and wet dog, trash and discarded sweaty clothes littered around their feet, explicit pornography displaying on the walls—not that Nathan was complaining about _that_ —and, the worst part was, the lack of ventilation, making the RV feel like a sauna. Warren looked like he’d rather be at the junkyard. 

“Okay, Frank, let’s see what ya got.”

They split up and began to look around for clues. Anything that had to do with Rachel. Warren set himself in front of the computer while Nathan went directly to his room. 

He’d been in Frank’s room before while high and every time he went there sober it was worse than what he remembered. 

“There’s a lot of emails from Rachel over here,” he heard Warren say from the other room.

“Read them to me,” said Nathan, looking through cabinets.

 _“‘Frank,_

_Sorry I won’t be able to make it, I have a photo shoot later today and I need the extra money. I know you don’t like it, but I need this if I want to make it big. Someday we’ll ride together down the coast of Malibu with Pompidou on our side but for now we need to save money in order to get there._

_Loves and kisses,_

_RA.’"_

Warren had subconsciously changed the pitch of his voice when reading the email, making it sound more feminine. “If Frank knew Rachel wanted to be a model, why would he mind her taking photos?” Warren asked.

Nathan didn’t have to look for long. He reached down under Frank’s bed and pulled out an adult magazine. Nathan had the same exact magazine under his bed and flipped through the pages. Walking back to the main room, he shoved the issue under Warren’s nose. “This is why.”

Warren took the magazine from Nathan, then flushed. It was a two page _spread_ of Rachel. She lay on a rumpled mattress, staring at the viewer with intense eyes. Her blond hair was the only thing covering her breasts, and a pack of beer was the only thing covering her crotch. Everything else was fully revealed.

“Oh,” said Warren.

“Frank didn’t like that ‘his Rachel’ wasn’t exclusive to him. She would have done anything to make it to California.”

“Shit, dude,” Warren said. “I-I mean, not that I’m disrespecting her or her decisions or anything, but nobody mentioned that she was…”

“A whore. Yeah, she kept that a pretty guarded secret. No doubt protecting her precious reputation.”

“You sound like you hated her,” said Warren. Then, as if someone flicked a switch, his face lit up in understanding. “Or resented her.”

Nathan’s eyes darkened and he growled, “Shut up.”

Warren turned around on his seat, placing the open magazine on his lap. “Dude, what happened between you and Rachel?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not gonna help us find her,” was all Nathan said before returning to Frank’s room.

He kept searching, found Frank’s prescription of Xanax, and pocketed it. Whatever, he probably needed it more than Frank did.

“Check this out,” Warren said. _“My parents took away my phone, if you want to reach me send me an email. I’m still angry at you, but I’m willing to talk it out. I have a photo shoot later tonight, and I’ll swing by after._

_There’s something I need to tell you._

_-RA.”_

Warren had changed the pitch of his voice again. “Frank tried emailing her after that but she never answered.”

“When was the date?” Nathan asked. He knelt on the floor in front of a small vent. It looked like there was something inside, but he needed something to pry the grate open.

“April 22nd.”

“That’s the day she went missing.”

“She didn’t return,” Warren said, “Frank emailed her that night but she didn’t show up.”

Nathan returned to the computer and leaned over to read the messages. “So, the question is…”

“Did Rachel make it to that photo shoot?” Warren finished for him. “And what did she have to tell Frank?”

“We’re finally getting somewhere,” said Nathan. “I think I might’ve found something, but I need your help.”

Warren got up from the computer and followed him to the bedroom. He took everything in and spent a while just staring at the room, before he pointed to the vent and said, “There’s something in there.”

 _How the fuck?_ Nathan stood there dumbfounded while Warren walked into the next room and brought a knife. He used it to pry it open and checked the contents inside.

“Look at this,” said Warren.

It was Frank’s personal ledger. His client names and all of their transactions carefully recorded. Inside it, slipped between pages, was something that could only be described as Rachel memorabilia. Pictures of her and personal handwritten letters. Frank was obsessed.

“Rachel lived with Frank,” said Warren, and Nathan leaned over to read the letter Warren was holding.

‘ _Frankie B._

_I went to Blackwell today, in case you wake up and get worried. Don’t worry, I’m not going to class—I’m still suspended—I’m just meeting someone there. I’ll be back in a few hours, or maybe tomorrow. Text me if you need anything._

_-RA’_

“Rachel was suspended?” Warren asked and Nathan felt a pang of guilt. 

“Yeah. She was in a lot of trouble with the school before she disappeared.”

“Why?” 

“Drugs,” Nathan said simply. He remembered it vividly. 

_Nathan, grabbed by the arm, was relentlessly pulled through Blackwell Academy, his feet tripping over themselves trying to keep up. The campus was empty at the moment, and when he made sure nobody_ would see them, _David pushed Nathan against the wall. Nathan’s head swam at all the sudden movements._

_“You’re high,” spat David._

_Nathan didn’t reply. Couldn’t. He was too out of it. David blurred._

_He shook Nathan’s shoulders and his head hit against the wall painfully. His cry of pain came belatedly, “...Ow.”_

_“Tell me who is bringing drugs into my campus,” he ordered._

_It was him. Obviously. Nathan suspected David already knew and was probably just looking for the head honcho. He giggled involuntarily._

_“Tell me or I will assume it’s you and turn you in.”_

_That wouldn’t go over well with his father. Or him. Prison sucked. He didn’t want to go there._

_David shook him again, Nathan’s head lolling forward. “Tell me who it is.”_

_Rachel’s betrayal still hurt, even while high. She was like the sun, if you got too close you’d get burned. He loved her. He still did, despite everything. Despite the pain that made him reach for the bottle, that made him yearn for the blade. He hated her. He hated himself for allowing her to do this to him._

_Another shake was all it took. “Rachel,” he said, the name heavy on his tongue. “It was Rachel.”_

“Yeah, I heard something about that,” said Warren.

“Really? Most of the school didn’t even know she was suspended.”

“Me either. I heard about the drug thing, but I didn’t know she was caught.”

Nathan closed Frank’s ledger. “We got the stuff. All we gotta find out now is where Rachel had the photoshoot and who she was with—”

Nathan suddenly got cut off as Warren placed his hand over his mouth and pushed him into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The bathroom was cramped and Warren had to press his body against Nathan’s for both of them to fit. Nathan, with a mix of outrage and panic, tried to claw Warren’s hand off him. The ledger dropped onto the wet floor. 

Warren shushed him and not two seconds later they heard the RV door open and the scrape of claws trotting along the floor. Time went completely still as a pair of shadowed feet settled themselves in front of the bathroom door, visible through the slit below the door. They heard a low, but persistent growl.

Warren’s hand was still on his mouth like he had forgotten to remove it. They were so close their chests were touching. Nathan could feel Warren’s accelerated heartbeat and Warren could feel his. It was a wonder the RV didn’t vibrate with them.

“Get away from there, Pompidou. Don’t worry, she’s not staying. I just want to make sure she’s not injured.” They heard Frank’s voice beyond the door. Pompidou moved obediently, but kept growling.

Nathan slapped Warren’s hands away and hissed, “I wasn’t going to scream, jackass.”

Warren nursed his slapped hand and glared at Nathan, “Yeah, you were.”

Nathan didn’t ask how the fuck he knew Frank was coming. Or how the fuck he knew anything at all ever, because he felt that if he asked it would just confirm that he was crazy. Nathan pushed Warren back. He could only take half a step back before the back of his legs hit Frank’s nasty-ass toilet, so they were still uncomfortably close, but at least they weren’t touching.

“What now?” Warren whispered. They heard Pompidou growl louder outside.

Nathan took out his disposable phone and began texting. He had to get rid of Frank somehow. 

**[You, Today 10:43 AM]**

_hey need speed_  
_Fast_

He was aware of Warren leaning over and reading his texts but he didn’t care. They waited for Frank’s response with bated breath.

**[Unknown, Today 10:46 AM]**

_So get here. I’m at the beach._

**[You, Today 10:46 AM]**

_can’t drive_  
_get here please_  
_ill pay triple_

**[Unknown, Today 10:46 AM]**

_You’re damn right you are. Send me your location._

**[You, Today 10:47 AM]**

_same place as last time_

**[Unknown, Today 10:47 AM]**

_On my way._

Frank was going to be so pissed when he got to the barn and realized there was nobody home, but desperate times called for desperate measures.They could hear Frank whispering something to Pompidou and heard him shuffling around, two pairs of claws trotting behind him. 

They scampered out of the room when they heard the front door close. Nathan grabbed the wet ledger and followed Warren out. They peeked through the window, watching Frank carry the dog they had hogtied earlier, who had immediately warmed up to him. Pompidou was trailing behind him, his tail raised in alert. They ran as soon as they were outside of Frank’s immediate range.

They ran all the way back to Warren’s car, the both of them laughing and wheezing. “I can’t believe we made it out of there,” said Warren between laughs.

“Same here. I thought I was going to pass out from the stench of that bathroom,” Nathan said breathlessly. 

“It’s so hot too,” Warren said, wiping the sweat off his face with his even sweatier T-shirt. “Dude, I don’t know how you’re wearing that. I get hotter just by looking at you.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Said Nathan, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was snowing a few days ago. The weather’s fucking weird.”

“Yeah, there’s some weird eco-shit going on right now,” said Warren. That much was true. The snow, the eclipse, all the dead animals.

They leaned on Warren’s car to catch their breath. Nathan held Frank’s ledger. Now they knew for sure that Rachel didn’t leave, she disappeared. But beyond that, where she had gone and who she met, was a complete mystery. 

“How long was Rachel suspended?” Warren asked.

“For about a week until she disappeared.”

Warren took the ledger and flipped to the page where Rachel’s notes to Frank were hidden. The note that Warren took was wet around the edges. “It says here she was meeting someone at school while she was suspended. And that she wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Yeah, so?”

“We need to figure out what she was doing that week. And who she was meeting.”

“Not me,” said Nathan, a bit sourly. “What are we going to do? Ask around every single person she’s ever had contact with?”

“I don’t think we have to,” said Warren. “In the email we read she told Frank her phone got confiscated the day she went missing.”

Warren’s idea dawned on Nathan. “Rachel’s phone,” he said simply.

“Her parents might still have it. If we can find it and read her messages from that week we can find out what happened that day.”

“But if her phone would’ve helped look for her, don’t you think her parents would have found her by now?”

Warren looked at the ground pensively. “That’s the one thing I can’t wrap my mind around. But it’s worth a shot.”

“One problem,” Nathan raised his finger up, “I don’t know who the fuck her parents are or if they’ll give us the phone.”

“But we know someone that knows,” Warren said.

Nathan tried to wrack his mind for anyone he knew that knew Rachel as well as he did and one look at Warren’s apologetic face had him realize who he was talking about. “No.”

“Chloe is the only other person who cared about Rachel enough to look for her,” he pleaded.

“I said _no._ What makes you think she’ll even help us. News flash: we hate each other.”

“She’ll help us because we’re the only ones still looking for her. We’re getting pretty close; I can feel it. Can’t you put aside your differences just to look for Rachel?”

Nathan crossed his arms and leaned on the car. “Let’s say I do. Let’s say I put aside my absolute hatred for that blue-haired feminazi and ask her to help us. It’s not just me you have to convince. She hates me just as bad.”

“She can be reasonable. We’ll work on it. Like you said, we’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” Warren gave Nathan a reassuring smile.

“You better know what you’re doing,” grumbled Nathan as Warren began to text Chloe.

ooo

Nathan sat at the back of the car this time, behind Warren. He’d tapped on the glass and told Nathan that that was the only other window that rolled down in his car and he took it. Chloe had told them to meet her at the lighthouse which meant they had to park at the base of the hill and hike their way up.

Warren still had a slight limp, which Nathan pointed out again only to have Warren dismiss him. He walked a few paces faster than Warren, but Nathan made sure not to create too much distance between them. It was still unreasonably hot and Nathan felt like he was going to pass out from heatstroke. The sun was at its peak, but even with the thick foliage blocking most of it, the heat still radiated stiflingly. They were almost at the peak when Warren grabbed his arm, stopping him. 

“What?” Nathan asked, exasperated.

“Give me your gun,” Warren said firmly.

Nathan’s heart hammered against his chest. How did he know that? _How did he know?_ “What?! I don’t—”

“Yes you do,”’ Warren cut him off. “It’s hidden in your vest. Give it to me.”

Nathan’s voice was a few octaves higher than usual. “How the fuck—”

“It doesn’t matter how I know, but I need you to give it to me before we see Chloe. Trust me on this, dude.”

Warren’s intense gaze froze Nathan in place. _What the fuck was going on?_ Nathan kept asking himself. He didn’t know how Warren seemed to know everything. He never explained, just gave half-assed excuses and expected Nathan to go along with it. 

 

 _Trust me._

Nathan didn’t know why or how but he found himself believing Warren’s sincerity. He reluctantly pulled the gun from the inside of his vest and handed it to him. Warren held it gingerly and hid it away at the small of his back. Nathan regretted it instantly, feeling like he just made a huge mistake. 

He gave Nathan that _look_ that made him believe that he knew more than he was letting on. “Also, whatever you do, don’t mention Frank. And don’t. Insult. Rachel. In fact, just don’t say anything. Let me handle it.”

To say Nathan was pissed off and suspicious would be an understatement. But Warren spoke with such an uncharacteristic certainty that Nathan felt he couldn’t do anything except nod. Satisfied with Nathan’s response, Warren continued the hike. With the way he bit his lower lip and clenched his fists, Nathan couldn’t help but think he looked like he was walking into a funeral.

Chloe was already there, leaning on the back of the bench with arms crossed. She saw Warren first and waved at him. Then she saw Nathan coming up behind him and her entire demeanor changed.

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?” She had a note of panic in her voice, Nathan noticed smugly.

“He’s helping us look for Rachel,” said Warren.

Nathan didn’t say anything, just analyze the expressions on her face. Fear and rage. Two emotions he was familiar with. Warren looked like he wanted to throw up from nervousness. _Why?_

“Why would he help us look for Rachel? Did you even _know_ her?” Chloe asked him.

Nathan stepped forward and Warren raised his hand to stop him. He ignored him. “Yeah, more than you ever did.”

Chloe scoffed. “That’s a fucking lie. I loved her, and she loved me.”

Warren stepped in front of Nathan, seemingly shielding him with his body. “It’s not a competition on who knew Rachel the best. The point is, he’s here to help and I think we should let him.”

“Why? Do you know him? He’s the biggest asshole in Arcadia Bay. All he cares about is himself; why the fuck would he help us?”

“He was friends with Rachel and wants to find her. That’s all there is,” Warren said, placatingly.

“Bullshit. There has to be something else.”

“There isn’t,” Nathan spoke up.

“Where were you all these months that she’s been gone then? I don’t remember you setting up posters and talking to the police and asking around.”

Nathan stepped around Warren to face Chloe. “I thought she left. It wasn’t a big fucking secret she wanted to pack her bags and fuck off to Los Angeles.”

“If you really knew her, you’d know she would never leave without me. You didn’t give a shit. Nobody ever gave a shit about her.”

Nathan had a particularly nasty retort set on his tongue but Warren was quick to stop it. “Chloe, that’s not fair. Not even the investigators know what happened to her. She disappeared and everybody thought she moved. You can’t blame Nathan for thinking the same.”

“Yeah, I fucking can,” she hissed.

“Chloe. We all want to find Rachel. We’re close, I can feel it. And I couldn’t have found out what I did without Nathan’s help. We can find her. The three of us. And hopefully we can find Max too.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You found out something? What did you find out?”

“We’ll tell you later. Are you with us?”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I’m not asking you to. Just put aside your differences for a little while until we find them. That’s all I ask.” 

Chloe glared at Nathan and Nathan glared back. For a moment it seemed like they were ready to tear each other apart but eventually Chloe’s shoulders slumped and she sneered at the ground. “Fine,” she spat. “But first I want to talk to him. Alone.”

Warren’s tentative smile dissolved and a look of panic flashed upon it in its stead. He glanced at Nathan, whose eyes still hadn’t left Chloe’s. “Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. He cast a look at Warren, who extended his arm as if to stop him but eventually set it down. He didn’t know why he was so panicked. It wasn’t like she was going to kill him out here in cold blood.

They stood behind the lighthouse, away from Warren. If he wasn’t so fucking desperate he would have flipped Chloe off instead of having what quite possibly was the most uncomfortable conversation he was going to have in his life.

“Are we just gonna pretend you _didn’t_ pull a gun on me in the girls’ bathroom?” Chloe asked. She was keeping a careful distance from him. She seemed to have learned from last time not to get in his face. Maybe she wasn’t as dumb as he thought.

“Are you gonna pretend _you_ didn’t blackmail me?” He mirrored her stance. 

She slapped her hands against her thigh. “Do you expect me to forget how you were about to _rape me?”_

Nathan scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t going to touch you.”

“So, what, you decided to _drug_ me for fun? I’m not buying that shit. You’re fucking evil.”

“Like you’re such a saint. You were gonna do the same thing to me.”

She looked actually offended. Like she had completely forgotten what happened a few days before the scene in the bathroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She asked.

“Please, like I mistook that monkey show you were trying to put on with actual flirting. You were gonna rob me blind and you know it.” Chloe didn’t say anything, only narrowed her eyes. Nathan continued. “What exactly was your plan, though? Try to get me black-out drunk? Were you gonna slip some roofies into my next drink? Were you going to fuck me then run with my wallet before I woke up? You’re not an innocent victim so don’t _pretend_ you are.”

Chloe gritted her teeth, Nathan could see the line of tension going up her jaw. Good. “Right now, we both have a common goal: to find Rachel. And maybe if we find Rachel, we’ll find that dyke, Max, too. So let’s just call it a truce and we can go back to hating each other once this is all over.”

“Fine, Prescock,” she relented. “You win. But I’m doing this for Rachel so don’t think for one second that I trust you.”

He fixed her with a devilish grin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

When they emerged from the under shadow of the lighthouse Warren looked ridiculously relieved. Nathan didn’t know what he was expecting. He jogged up to them and said, “You guys talked it through?”

Neither of them said anything, just looked at anywhere but each other.

“Well, at least it’s something,” Warren concluded. “Come on. We gotta catch you up on what we found.”

“Finally,” said Chloe.

ooo

By the time they were done explaining everything to Chloe, she had gone through five of the seven stages of grief. 

Shock and denial when they first explained about Frank and Rachel. Chloe looked just about ready to sock Nathan when he mentioned Rachel starring in a porn mag and flat-out refused to believe him. It didn’t help that Warren didn’t back him up, preferring to play dumb about that particular piece of information.

Pain when they showed her evidence in the form of Frank’s ledger. They gave her a moment to compose herself, Warren extending awkward sympathy and Nathan sitting at the ground paying extra attention to an interesting-looking rock at the distance. 

Anger took the longest. She screamed and cursed and blamed everyone for her life’s problems. She picked a fight with Nathan just because she could and Warren had to bodily get in between them to prevent it from getting physical. Nathan remembered how much he hated Chloe.

After her outburst, she was depressed. Not crying or yelling, more like sulking while Warren explained everything that happened during the past week. The three of them were seated around an extinguished campfire. Chloe, during her sulking phase, drew absentmindedly on the dirt next to her, occasionally nodding her head to indicate that she was listening. Nathan sat with his legs drawn to himself, arms crossed and resting over his knees, his head laying on them. He was staring at Warren recount their experiences, but not really listening.

Then, finally, she calmed down. She realized that yeah, Rachel was a lying slut (though she didn’t say it like _that_ ), but she was still missing and for now they had the best chance of finding her. 

“—so we figured that the best way to find out is to go through her phone and find out where she was going that day. Then we can start from there,” finished Warren.

Chloe gave him a hopeful grin. “Hell yeah. Nerd-boy strikes again! We’ll definitely find Rachel this time, I know it.” She gave him a high five which Warren enthusiastically returned.

Nathan interrupted their moment. “We just have one problem. We don’t know who the fuck Rachel’s parents are.”

Chloe gave him a sour look. “That’s why you called me here. You’re right, we do have a problem. Rachel’s parents are assholes. There’s no way they would hand over her phone to us.”

Warren said. “But if we tell them that we might have a chance of finding their daughter…”

She waved a hand dismissively. “That won’t work. They gave up on her months ago. I’ve been trying to convince them to keep looking but they just don’t care. They hate me, said I was a bad influence on their daughter.” 

“Good call,” said Nathan.

Chloe shot him a dirty look and looked like she was about to go off, but Warren, once again, kept them from it. “Let’s try it anyway. They should still have her phone. And they don’t know me or Nathan.”

“They know Nathan,” she mentioned.

“How?” Nathan asked.

“You’re a Prescott.”

“Yeah? So?”

“What do you think happened to the people that lived where your dad’s having his new project?”

Fantastic. Nathan scowled. “That’s not my fucking fault.”

“I doubt they care.”

“Okay, guys, we’re getting off track,” Warren interrupted. “Let’s just go there. We’ll figure out what to do then.”

ooo

Nathan had called backseat shotgun and Chloe had given him a confused look for it until she realized that she was going to sit in a hot car for thirty minutes with no AC and the windows up. By the time she got out of the car, she looked ready to pass out. “We should have taken my car,” she panted like a bitch.

“Like I’m trusting you to drive us anywhere,” Nathan said. He was a lot cooler than Chloe, but his hair was completely ruined from the wind. 

“Guys, focus.” Warren.

They parked a little ways from the house. They had a solid plan. Or, well, as solid as a plan made by three sweaty teenagers could be. It was mostly Warren’s plan with a few suggestions from Chloe. Nathan had stayed silent in the backseat while they talked.

“Okay, you guys look around the perimeter. See if there’s any way for you to get in.” Warren popped the hood of his car.

Nathan and Chloe sneaked around the house. It as a large two-story building, so Nathan didn’t know what the fuck they were complaining about moving from Pan Estates. They stopped behind the house and Chloe pointed at the moss-covered wood, then at the window at the top. “That’s Rachel’s room.”

“How do we get up there?” Nathan asked. He considered climbing it, but one poke at the moss told him it was too slippery.

“We don’t,” she said. “We have to get through from the inside.”

Nathan tried opening a window at the ground floor but it was locked. Of course. “How?”

Chloe held up a finger and began texting. Nathan looked over her shoulder to see what she was typing.

**[You, Today 1:32 AM]**

_the windws r locked_

**[Walter, Today 1:32 AM]**

_I’ll see what I can do._

Nathan released a soundless laugh at Warren’s name, but didn’t correct her. She would find out eventually. They heard movement in the house and peeked through a window so they could see. Rachel’s parents—a short woman with a delicate bun on her head and a taller man with mostly gray hair—had answered the door to a distraught Warren. Nathan felt iffy about the plan. Warren was a notoriously bad liar.

They seemed skeptical at first but eventually let Warren inside. The man had left the room and gone to the kitchen and the woman encouraged Warren to take a seat at a plush couch. She excused herself as well and Warren shot up from the sofa and made a beeline to the window where Chloe and Nathan were watching him from. He soundlessly unlocked it and returned to his seat before Rachel’s parents noticed.

The man had brought him a cool drink and the woman brought him a cordless telephone. Nathan could read Warren’s lips thanking him both before getting up and obviously pretending to have a fake phone call. When they left the room again Warren gave Nathan and Chloe a wordless signal to get in.

Chloe slid the window open and Nathan followed silently behind. The central air conditioning was a relief from the heat. They ran as quietly as they could to the top of the stairs, Warren speaking loudly to cover up any sounds they might make. Chloe led them through the hallway and into Rachel’s room.

The room was so, so _Rachel_ that Nathan’s heart ached just looking at it. It hadn’t been touched since her disappearance with her laundry hamper full of clothes and her trash can full of garbage. The walls were completely covered with posters of her hanging in the room along with pictures of people she cared about. Nathan was in one of those pictures. Chloe was in ten. 

Chloe seemed to have the same problem he did because when she spoke her voice was strained. “Come on. Let’s see what we can find.”

They silently searched through her room. There, unsurprisingly, wasn’t much. Rachel lived full-time at Blackwell Academy before getting suspended, where she presumably moved in with Frank. “Did she ever come here?” Nathan asked.

“Occasionally. After she moved to Blackwell she didn’t come as much. Only when she needed a new change of wardrobe or to do laundry or something.”

“Not to visit her parents?”

“That too. She loved them, but they were too controlling for her. She mostly visited them on Sundays.”

Nathan nodded. He could relate. He wasn’t fond of his parents, but he still went home several times a week. He found a spiral bound notebook at the bottom of a drawer. It was like a journal of some sort, except not really. Some pages had notes for homework, in others she wrote song lyrics, sometimes she drew on the margins, that sort of stuff. 

“What’d you find?” Chloe asked, coming up behind him.

“Some of Rachel’s junk,” he said, flipping through the pages.

They came across a letter addressed to Chloe. Nathan saw her stiffen and hold her breath as she read it. 

_‘C._

_You can tell how much I want you to read this letter since I’ve been dragging my ass to give it to you. Maybe I just want you to find it when I’m not around so we never have to talk about it. And I don’t want you to hate me. Where to start?_

_I met somebody recently who’s so different from the lame Vortex Club snobs. I know you’ll have a meltdown when I tell you and think he’s gross, but I swear he’s wise and unconventional. kind of scary, not in a “bad boy” way. He’s just experienced some serious shit. Yes, I’m kinda obssessed. I won’t blame you for freaking._

_Maybe I know you’re right and this just has to be my secret._

_I hate not sharing this with you except I know you’d give me that stink eye and grill me for every stupid detail. If I even told you that last night we hooked up near campus…’_

The rest of the letter was crossed out with a dark marker. Chloe looked like she was going to be sick. Angry tears pooled in her eyes and she gritted her teeth. She couldn’t scream and yell and stomp with Rachel’s parents underneath them but Nathan knew that the moment they would be alone she was going to take out her anger on him. _Great._

As for Nathan himself, he wasn’t going to cry. He had found out this side of Rachel a long time ago. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt—especially that part about the Vortex Club—but he wasn’t going to freak out over it. Still, anger and resentment pooled in his belly, knowing exactly who Rachel was talking about.

Chloe’s phone vibrated and she glared at it before throwing it to Rachel’s bed. Nathan rolled his eyes at the childish behavior, but felt like a hypocrite. His meltdown when he first found out was a lot worse. He walked over to the bed and read the message.

**[Walter, Today 1:47 AM]**

_Did you guys find it? I don’t know how much longer I can_

The text cut off right there, so Nathan assumed Rachel’s parents had walked in and he had to hide his phone. 

**[You, Today 1:47 AM]**

_the phones not in her room_

**[Walter, Today 1:49 AM]**

_Of course not it got confiscated. Her parents have it._

Leave it to Warren to make Nathan feel like an idiot. “Hey. Chloe.”

“What do you want?” She was still having an internal bitch-fit.

“Do you know where her parents’ room is?”

“Yeah,” she said. “This way.”

She led them out of Rachel’s room and into her parents’ room which was a few feet down the hall. They could hear activity downstairs. 

Their room was as far away from Rachel as you could get. Neat and orderly, not even a picture or memory of their daughter anywhere. If Nathan hadn’t known any better, he’d peg this as a room of a model home rather than someone’s living space. There was a ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ sign above their bed. It was disgusting.

“What I wouldn’t give to trash this place,” said Chloe.

“Same here,” replied Nathan.

They searched through drawers and closets, as they had done with Rachel’s room. It was hard to look without disturbing the way everything was carefully organized, but Nathan didn’t really give a shit. He was hands deep in the mother’s underwear drawer when Chloe called him over. 

“Check it,” she brought out a huge box labelled _RACHEL._

Nathan opened the box. “Jackpot.”

The box contained everything about the investigation. Emails printed out from the police department, her entire medical history, snapshots of her last sightings captured by cameras, everything. Rachel’s phone sat at the bottom of the box in a baggie marked _EVIDENCE._

It was out of battery, so they’d have to charge it before doing anything. Nathan shoved it in his pocket. “Okay, we got it. Text Warren so we can go,” he said.

But Chloe wasn’t listening. She was reading a letter, clutching it so tightly it left wrinkles on the edges. Angry tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. 

“What is it?” Nathan asked.

“Rachel’s parents ended the investigation. They _asked_ the police to close the case!” Her voice was loud.

 _“What?”_ Nathan asked, also angry. ”Let me see that.” He tore the paper from Chloe’s grip, ripping it a little.

It was as she said. Rachel’s parents emailed the head investigator on the case and told them that they wouldn’t find their daughter if she didn’t want to be found. And that they had ‘evidence’ that Rachel moved willingly.

“If that’s true, then why the fuck didn’t they say anything?” Nathan asked.

“It says they asked to keep the information ‘strictly confidential’. But that’s bullshit! They never gave a shit about Rachel!”

There were footsteps coming up from the stairs.

 _Oh shit!_ They were too loud. They were caught. 

Nathan immediately tried coming up with an escape plan, only for Chloe to ruin it and walk straight out into the hall, waiting for them with the letter crumpled up in her fist. He ran after her and grabbed her arm, trying to stop her from giving them away. _“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”_ He hissed.

“What does it look like?” She didn’t whisper. “These _assholes_ have a lot of answering to do.”

“What in the hell is going on here?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit, they were caught. Rachel’s father had reached the top of the stairs first. He held a baseball bat in his clenched fists. 

“Explain _this,”_ Chloe presented the email. “Explain to me why you’ve given up on your daughter!” 

_“Chloe?”_ Rachel’s mom appeared, Warren close behind her. 

“Hi _Margo,”_ she spat disdainfully.

“What are you doing in my house?” Chloe’s father asked, then turned to Warren. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

Warren floundered. “I, uh, I—”

“I’m calling the police,” said Margo, already with her phone in hand.

Nathan spoke up. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he tried for his most threatening voice.

“And why the hell not?” Rachel’s father said, raising his bat. 

“My family owns the pigs here. You can call the cops, but they aren’t gonna do shit.”

His eyes narrowed. “Prescott,” he said the name with scorn.

“You’re breaking the law,” said Margo, with less bravado than before. “It’s breaking and entering. Theft.”

“We didn’t _steal_ anything,” said Nathan.

“That’s a load of hogwash,” said the father. “Empty your pockets. If what you say is true, we won’t call the police.”

Well, shit. He wasn’t bluffing, not really, if the cops did show up he wouldn’t get charged. His dad would know though, and honestly, Nathan would rather spend a few nights in a holding cell than have his dad find out. He tried stalling. “I said, we didn’t steal anything. And even if we had, the cops aren’t going to help you,” he repeated.

“Empty. Your. Pockets,” Rachel’s dad’s fists tightened around the bat.

“I could sue you for physically threatening—”

“I said empty your goddamn pockets _now!”_ He raised his voice and it echoed across the hall.

The threat was enough. He reached into his vests’ pockets and turned them inside out, revealing his personal phone. 

_“All_ of them.”

He hesitated, even though there was no point to it. There was no way he could hide Rachel’s phone now. He reached in. His second phone, wallet, and keys were there. He kept feeling around and turned them inside out.

Rachel’s phone wasn’t there.

He saw Chloe stiffen from his peripheral eye, probably realizing the same thing. Rachel’s parents asked him to remove the vest next and for once Nathan was glad Warren had taken his gun. 

Once they were satisfied he hadn’t taken anything, they moved on to Chloe. A thousand questions swam in Nathan’s head. Where did it go? He was sure he put it in his pocket just a few minutes ago. Did he drop it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he crazy?

“Give that back!” He heard Chloe yell. His attention returned to the real world. Rachel’s father had the bat down and held a picture of Chloe and Rachel taking a selfie together. His mouth curled in disgust. 

“You were a terrible influence on our daughter. Before she met you she was kind, responsible, beautiful.”

“She still is, asshole!” Chloe retorted.

“Now all she does was party, do hard drugs, and fornicate! This wasn’t the little girl I raised!” He shook the picture. A closer look at it revealed that the whites of their eyes were slightly reddened and their lips were pressed together, a curl of smoke escaping through the gaps.

“I said, give it back!” Chloe swiped at the air in front of her and the man stepped back. 

“You’re the reason she’s gone!” He yelled. “If it wasn’t for you she would still be here! None of this would have happened!” He tore the photograph in half.

 _“No!”_ Chloe screamed, tears flowing freely from her face. 

“I never want to see any of you ever again or so help me God I will have you all arrested.”

They turned to Warren, who raised his hands in a ‘don’t-look-at- _me’_ kind of gesture. “I was with you the whole time.” He said.

“You were a part of this. Don’t think I don’t have my eye on you. Now get out of my house. All of you.”

He turned his back on them and went down the stairs. Margo leaned on the railing with her arms crossed and motioned them to kindly get the fuck out of her house. So they did. They didn’t speak a word as they left the building and Nathan wished he could set it on fire.

Chloe shoved him suddenly. “Rachel’s phone better be hidden up your ass, otherwise we came here for nothing.”

He groaned. Time to face the music. “I don’t have it, bitch,” said Nathan.

“What the fuck, Prescott? You had one motherfucking job and you couldn’t even do that right. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you.”

“Hey, guys—”

“ _I_ didn’t lose my cool and start screaming and stomping all over the house! It was YOUR fault we got caught, you stupid cunt!” Nathan stood over Chloe and tried to stare her down but she didn’t back off.

“Guys—”

Chloe shoved him away. “You better back the fuck off right now Prescott or I swear to God—”

“GUYS!” Warren screamed loud enough for their attentions to snap to him. “It’s cool,” he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small baggie. Rachel’s phone. “We got it.”

“Oh snap!” said Chloe, immediately forgetting about Nathan and taking the phone in her hands. “Nice trick, dude! I can’t believe we got it.”

 _How. The. Fuck?!_ Nathan stared at Warren incredulously, and Warren, he noticed, was looking at everywhere but at Nathan. Something was up. Something had to be up. Nathan had the phone in his pocket, there was no way Warren could have had it. They weren’t even near each other. How the fuck did that motherfucking happen?

Chloe was preoccupied with the phone while walking back to the car. Nathan clamped Warren’s arm in his hand to stop him from following. _“We need to talk,”_ he hissed.

“I know,” Warren replied, still not looking at him.

“Something’s going on. I didn’t give you the phone. Just tell me I am not crazy.” When Warren didn’t say anything Nathan squeezed his arm and pleaded, _“Please.”_

“You’re not crazy,” Warren looked directly into Nathan’s eyes. His brows furrowed in understanding. “You’re not crazy, Nathan.” 

ooo

Chloe and Nathan both fought for backseat shotgun and in the end, they both sat in the back, leaving Warren alone in the front. When it was revealed that the window behind the passenger seat also didn’t open, they fought for the one that did as well. 

“Don’t make me turn this car around, kids!” Warren had said in an exaggerated voice. Nathan had climbed over the seat and lightly slapped him upside the head.

“So where are we going?” Chloe had won the seat behind Warren. 

“I’m making a stop at a gas station, then we can go to my house.”

“Why your house?” Nathan asked, though not unkindly.

“I can’t think of anywhere else. We need to sit down and figure out what we’re going to do with Rachel’s phone. I doubt either of you would go to the other’s house…”

“Fuck no.”

“As if.”

“...So my house seemed like a good middle ground.”

They pulled up to the gas station and Warren exited the car. “If you want, you guys can wait—” Both Nathan and Chloe scrambled to get out of the car and into the air conditioned building. “—here.”

The bell jingled as Nathan opened the door. He breathed out in relief as the air cooled his body. He could hear Chloe appear behind him and do the same. It was really fucking hot outside. He made a beeline for the refrigeration section. Chloe did too and picked a pack of beer. Nathan didn’t like beer, it was too bitter for his liking, but God help him if he wasn’t going to chug it down after a week like this. Nathan picked up a bottle of water and drank it on the spot. 

He found Warren staring at something and followed his line of sight to the stack of missing person’s posters that were to be distributed at the gas station. It was almost identical to the posters that he had seen around the town for the past few months, the main exception being that the girl on the picture was Max, not Rachel.

****

**MISSING**  


MAXINE CAULFIELD  


Last Seen: Blackwell Academy, Arcadia Bay OR  


Date Missing: Monday October 7, 2013  


Age: 18 Years Old  


Height: 5’5”  


Weight: 115lbs  


Hair: Brown  


Eyes: Blue  


PLEASE CONTACT ARCADIA BAY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT WITH ANY INFORMATION

A soft sigh escaped Warren’s lips and Nathan felt a tug of sympathy for him. He went through the same with Rachel. If it had been Victoria, he didn’t know what he would do. He watched as Warren took a leaflet and folded it carefully before placing it in his wallet. 

“Are you guys good to go?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Nathan picked up a bag of chips and placed them on the cashier’s counter. Chloe did the same with the pack of beer and when the cashier asked her for an ID, she didn’t even hesitate. She produced an obviously fake ID, but the cashier either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he rang her up. 

“Look at that,” they heard a man behind him say, “no wonder it’s so fucking hot.”

The three of them looked up at the small television screen behind the cash register and saw the words “HEAT WAVE” in big, red letters, along with instructions on what to do to cope with the heat. 

“It’s the middle of October. It snowed last Monday,” said Chloe.

“Something’s wrong with the weather,” commented Warren.

“We could have fucking died riding in that car of yours,” said Nathan.

Warren rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know?”

“I thought you were a science geek.”

“Nobody saw this coming,” he said. “That’s what makes it so weird.”

“I really hope your house has an air conditioner,” said Chloe, strutting out with a pack of beer in hand. 

“Uh…” Warren trailed off.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Nathan ran his hand over his face.

ooo

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Warren extended his arms and stood before the two-story house in a cheesy pose.

“I’d tell you to go to hell, but the weather’s probably colder over there,” Nathan wheezed, fanning himself.

Warren’s house wasn’t that far out of the way from Rachel’s. It was very stereotypical, with a large, unkempt lawn, a wrap-around porch, and a chimney for the colder seasons. The first floor was made from red bricks and the second was made from white wood. The house itself looked old, but not unwelcoming. Paint chipped off in some places and moss grew in others, but Nathan thought it gave the place character.

“I’m pretty sure I must have passed out at least twice in that car,” said Chloe. She had two beer bottles pressed against her neck and back.

“Yeah, we should probably go in before one of us dies,” said Warren, unlocking the door.

As soon as the door opened a massive pile of golden fur tackled Warren, and he staggered back but did not fall. “Chewie! How’s my big girl doing?” 

‘Chewie’ was a large, overexcited golden retriever. He pushed her back in the house where she ran back and forth between the living room and Warren, unable to contain her excitement. 

“Chewie?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, like Chewbacca from _Star Wars.”_ Warren said, leading them up the stairs. 

_“Wow,_ you’re a nerd,” Chloe said as if that was ever in question.

The inside of the house wasn’t in a much better shape than the outside. Nathan had to step over a few chewed up dog toys that were scattered around the living room. The furniture looked worn and there were teeth marks on the legs of chairs and on the edges of walls. It was very… suburban. The house was practical; there wasn’t any gaudy decor or blatant displays of wealth like his house. There were a few pictures hung up on the wall here and there, but nothing too fancy.

Nathan and Chloe silently followed Warren up the stairs and he led them into a hallway, where he stopped dead in the center. 

“Can we hurry it up? It’s hot as balls over here,” said Nathan.

Warren reached up into the ceiling and pulled a foldable ladder seemingly out of thin air. “After you, m’ladies.” He motioned for them to go with a flourish and sent a wink at Nathan’s scowl.

The attic had been completely refurbished into a geek’s wet dream. The ceiling itself was slanted but there was plenty of room to walk around. The walls were covered with geeky science-fiction posters and comic book spreads. Once Warren opened a window, a nice but hot breeze circulated through the room, so it wasn’t stifling. There was a twin-sized bed with a thick space-themed comforter on one corner of the room, and a small loveseat facing a television on another corner. The room itself was clean and organized.

“Make yourself at home, _tu casa es mi casa,”_ not only did he butcher the phrase, he pronounced it terribly, but Nathan got the gist of it. He had a feeling that this was the first time Warren brought anyone to his house. 

“Sick room you got here,” Chloe draped herself over the loveseat, already feeling comfortable. She opened the bottle she had pressed against her back and took a long swig.

“Thanks,” said Warren. Then he looked at Nathan. He wasn’t sure what Warren wanted him to say so he just shrugged and took a seat at the bed. 

“I’ll bring in some fans so we don’t die up here.”

Chloe gave him a thumbs up, her mouth occupied by the beer. She didn’t offer any to Nathan but he took one anyway, not really caring about the glare she sent his way when he did. It tasted like bitter water and he hated it, but gave no external indication of his discomfort. 

Warren returned a few minutes later with a tower fan and two of the smaller, hand-held fans that squirt water on you. He also brought some popsicles. “I don’t know what flavor you guys like, so I brought cherry and blueberry.” Nathan took the cherry and began eating it, already feeling cooler.

“Also, if you want, Nathan, you could take off your shirt and I could lend you one of mine.”

Nathan would never admit that the thought was tempting. He had sweat through the longsleeved shirt and it was pretty confining in the heat. He had taken his vest off a while ago and it sat in Warren’s car. But it was his last layer and he had a thing against wearing something without long sleeves. “No,” he said curtly.

“It’s no big deal—”

“I said no. I’m not wearing any of your geeky shirts, Graham,” he said. Truth be told, he couldn’t really give a shit. It’s not like anyone important would be seeing him wear it, it was more about the sleeve thing. But he didn’t want to let Warren know that.

“Ungrateful rich snob,” he heard Chloe grumble at his direction.

“Ex _cuse_ me? Do you mind repeating that a little louder? I don’t think I heard you.” Nathan challenged, angry heat rising up in his throat.

“Chloe, it’s okay,” said Warren. “I get it.” He was smiling at them to diffuse the tension, but Nathan saw hints of pain from the way it twitched subtly at the corners. Guilt tugged at him and for some unknown reason he never wanted to see that expression on Warren again.

“Listen…” Nathan started, but he didn’t know where he was going with it. He didn’t have to apologize to Warren and he didn’t know why he tried to. “Warren—”

“I’m gonna go get a charger for Rachel’s phone. I think my parents’ have the same one. Be right back.” He turned on his heel and climbed down the ladder, leaving Nathan and Chloe alone once again.

“You’re an ass,” said Chloe.

 _I know._ “Like you’re such a ray of sunshine, Price,” Nathan said and bit off a chunk of his popsicle.

“At least I’m not a prick to the one guy that’s helping us find Rachel.”

 _She’s right._ “You’re still a lowlife bitch. Why the fuck’d you steal from Rachel’s room?”

“I didn’t _steal_ anything. That picture was ours. Her parents are just the biggest dicks you’ll ever meet.”

“Wow, I actually agree with you. Call the news; it’s the end of the world.”

“Hey guys!” Warren’s head popped from the floor apparently feeling better, Nathan noted with relief. “Look what I got!”

He brought with him a bag of ice as if it was the coolest shit in the world. Chloe and Nathan both made sarcastic remarks, but Warren ignored them both. He placed the ice in front of the fan and tried a few different angles until he stepped back and said, “Voila!” 

Nathan was about to make a snappy statement when cool air hit him straight across the face. An unwanted sigh escaped across his lips. 

“Now you won’t be so hot in that shirt anymore,” said Warren, looking proud at himself.

Nathan was touched. He never, _ever_ in his life had someone react this way to him after he acted like such a huge fucking dick to them. Most people tell him to fuck off, or, like Chloe, guilt him about it. Nathan found himself at a loss to what to say or do. 

“I’m gonna go get the charger now,” Warren didn’t seem to expect any thanks because he left the room without saying another word.

“I bet you _really_ feel like a dick now,” said Chloe and Nathan could hear the smirk in her voice.

 _Yeah. I do._ “Whatever.”

ooo

Warren had returned a few times with everything _but_ the charger. Chewie had somehow climbed the ladder at some point and sat at the foot of Warren’s bed. Warren then had left to get another bag of ice and placed it on her to help cool her off. He brought more popsicles and a bean bag chair for him to sit on. Normally Nathan would have been annoyed by this, but honestly it was so fucking hot every single time he brought something that would cool the room he could think of nothing but unspoken gratitude.

“Okay, I got it!” Warren finally, _finally_ returned with the charger for Rachel’s phone. 

“Fuck yeah! Let’s get this show on the road!” Chloe turned the loveseat to face the center of the room. Nathan and Warren moved to sit on it, with Warren sitting in the middle. He connected the phone to the charger and the three of them waited for the phone to turn on with bated breath. When the phone’s logo lit up on the screen they cheered and whooped. 

Then promptly fell into silence as a lock-screen came up. “Ah, shit,” breathed Warren. Nathan and Chloe both looked at the other with the silent question _‘do YOU know it?’_ before simultaneously rolling their eyes. 

“Try her birthday,” said Chloe. “July 22.”

They watched Warren punch in the numbers before sighing. “Nope.”

Nathan wracked his brain trying to figure out what Rachel could have used as a password. Then something came to him and he hoped he was wrong. “Try 542.”

“It’s a four-digit code.”

“0542 then.”

Warren entered the numbers and shook his head. Nathan felt relieved when he shouldn’t have. So what if Rachel had used the Dark Room’s passcode? It didn’t mean anything.

They kept naming off a few numbers, with Warren trying them all and shaking his head. Minutes passed and Nathan was amazed the phone hadn’t locked itself in all this time. After a while Warren entered a few numbers on his own volition. His eyes widened and he fell into a fit of laughter.

“What? Did you get it?” Asked Chloe.

Warren was laughing too hard to say anything so he just nodded.

“What was it?”

“0420.”

Chloe also started laughing and Nathan’s lips curved to a smile. “That’s my girl!” Said Chloe between breaths.

 

They hit the motherfucking jackpot. 

Rachel texted like a fiend, there were hundreds of texts to sift through. But Chloe’s hopeful smile had turned very quickly into a frown. She was starting to learn about a side of Rachel that she had kept hidden from most of the world throughout her life. Nathan’s face stayed impassive. He had already gone through with the revelation.

Another problem was that Rachel never gave their phone contacts their actual names, preferring to give them obscure nicknames. 

“Who’s ‘Sexy Beast’?” 

“Fuck if I know.”

It was worse than figuring out the passcode. They had to sift through an ocean of texts without knowing who they belonged to. Even if they set their focus on the week she went missing, there were still too many messages.

They started with someone called ‘Mr. Radio’. 

“Who do you think it is?” Warren asked.

“No idea,” said Chloe.

They clicked on the name and began reading the messages.

**[Mr. Radio, April 17 3:45 PM]**

_so whats it like?_

**[You, April 17 3:46 PM]**

_It’s like regular sex but without the penis._

**[Mr. Radio, April 17 3:46 PM]**

_i knew THAT. but is it better?_

**[You, April 17 3:46 PM]**

_Not necesarily. It depends on the person. We had sex yesterday tho and I came like four times!_

**[Mr. Radio, April 17 3:47 PM]**

_holy shit!!_ :0 _how did you manage that?_

The rest of the messages was Rachel giving a very detailed description of lesbian sex. When Nathan looked up at Chloe, her face was red as a beet. 

“I can’t fucking believe this!” She stood up and began pacing the room, occasionally kicking at a few empty beer bottles.

Nathan sniggered under his hand. He couldn’t help it. Chloe’s reaction was fucking priceless. He sniggered some more when he looked at Warren. His face was equally red but he seemed engrossed in what he was reading. Nathan snapped his fingers in front of his face and he dropped the phone in surprise.

“I can’t believe Rachel would just—! That was our own private life, not something she could broadcast to the entire Arcadia Bay population. I’m gonna kill her when I find her.”

“We should move on,” said Warren, a little too quickly.

‘Sex Machine’ was Warren’s next choice. His messages were mostly comprised of cringey flirting, but Rachel was surprisingly receptive. 

**[Sex Machine, April 15 8:23 PM]**

_hey i have a problem._  
_a BIG one_  
_if you know what i am saying_ ;)

**[You, April 15 8:23 PM]**

_Dr. Amber is in the house. What are the symptoms?_ ;)

**[Sex Machine, April 15 8:24 PM]**

_im just gonna show you_

_[IMAGE ATTACHED]_

“Oh God, I shouldn’t have clicked on that.” Warren said, his hand covering the screen.

“Gee, ya think?” Nathan lightly slapped Warren on the arm.

Chloe was uncharacteristically silent during all of this.

**[You, April 15 8:26 PM]**

_I see. Lucky for you I have the cure right here._

_[IMAGE ATTACHED]_

Warren’s thumb hovered over the link, hesitating, but Chloe glared at him and hissed, _“Don’t you fucking dare.”_

“I, uh, I wasn’t going to. Nope. Wasn’t going to do that,” he stumbled over his words.

The glare Chloe sent his way could have chilled the entire room. “I can’t believe Rachel would do this, any of this.” She sighed and cast her eyes down on the floor. Oh great, she was _moping_ again. “Rachel straight up lied to my face. I thought we had something.”

“Yeah, you and about a hundred other people,” Nathan leaned back, using the heels of his palms as support.

“Laugh it up, Prescott. Of course you’re enjoying this. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to love someone.”

Nathan shrugged it off. “Your words, not mine.”

“The stupid part about all of this is that I still love her. I don’t think I could stop loving her. She’s gonna have a hell of explaining to do when he find her, though.”

“Are you still going to California with her?” Asked Warren.

“Hell yeah we are. That hasn’t changed.” Chloe asserted.

Nathan rolled his eyes. Typical lovestruck idiot.

 

They read a few more messages, most of them normal, some of them lewd. None of them had any information on Rachel’s whereabouts.

“What about ‘Rich Daddy’?” Warren asked.

A glance at the messages told Nathan who it was. “It’s me,” he said sourly. 

“Fitting,” said Chloe.

He’d always believed Rachel saw him as more than the son of Sean Prescott, multimillionaire. He learned some time ago that he was wrong and it still stung. 

“Whoa, what happened with you and Rachel?” Warren asked, reading the messages.

“I didn’t say you could read them!” Nathan made an attempt to grab the phone, but Chloe snatched it from Warren’s hand before he could. She kept it out of reach.

“We said we were going to look at _all_ of the messages during the week of her disappearance and that includes yours, Prescott.”

“I don’t have _anything_ to do with her disappearance.”

“Then you won’t have anything to hide.”

Nathan looked at Warren for some backup, but he just shrugged, conceding Chloe’s point. Nathan fumed as she handed the phone back to Warren and they read the messages. 

**[You, April 19 3:12 AM]**

_Pick up your phone. I swear I’m not mad._

**[You, April 19 3:22 AM]**

_Nathan?_

**[Rich Daddy, April 19 3:43 AM]**

_fuck off_

**[You, April 19 3:44 AM]**

_I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I was a major bitch and you deserve better._

**[You, April 19 3:50 AM]**

_It wouldn’t have worked between us anyway._

**[Rich Daddy, April 19 3:50 AM]**

_i said fuck off whore_

**[You, April 19 3:51 AM]**

_You don’t mean that. I care about you. I’m sorry I hurt you._

**[You, April 20 4:55 PM]**

_Hello?_

**[You, April 21 9:23 AM]**

_Nathan, call me. We can talk this out. You can’t avoid me forever._

**[You, April 22 4:21 PM]**

_If you want to talk you know where to look._

Nathan felt Chloe’s glare before he saw it. “What the fuck did you do, Prescott?” She asked.

Anger rose like bile up his throat. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and mind your own damn business for once, ugly bitch.”

“Hey—” Warren tried to cut in.

“No, I wanna know. What was going on between you and Rachel?” Chloe had stood up and shoved Nathan. The same murderous feeling from back in the bathroom returned. If he had his gun he would have pulled it out. Maybe even pulled the fucking trigger on his bitch. That’d shut her up for good.

Warren stood up as well and got between them. “It doesn’t matter! Nathan didn’t have anything to do with Rachel being missing so this doesn’t matter. Calm down, Chloe.”

She didn’t. She sidestepped around Warren and shoved Nathan again. “Answer the fucking question, Prescott!”

“We were fucking!” Nathan’s answer came before his brain could process it. “It’s the same exact thing that’s happened to you. We were fucking and she told me I was ‘the one’. Then, I found out she was fucking other people and everything went to shit!”

The room was very, very quiet after his outburst. The only sound was the hum of the fan and a soft whine from Chewie behind him. His heartbeat was too loud in his ears. Warren’s face was stunned, Chloe’s was outraged. He watched her clench her jaw and curl her fists. “You’re lying.”

“Read all the other messages. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I loved Rachel, and she threw it at my face.” 

“Rachel would never—” Chloe started, but Warren, much to Nathan’s surprise, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

“Do not finish that sentence,” he said. Nathan had never seen him so angry.

Chloe tried shaking her arm away. “He’s—”

“No. Both of you are going to calm down and we’re going to finish reading the messages and we’re going to find Rachel _and_ Max. Stop. Fighting.” Both Nathan and Chloe stood there stunned as a trickle of blood trailed from Warren’s nostrils down to his lips.

“Shit,” he said and let go of Chloe to dab at it with his fingers. Then, he fainted.

“Holy shit!”

“What the fuck?”

Warren’s body crumpled in front of them, his head hitting hard against the hardwood floor. Chewie released a yelp and started whining, pacing around Warren licking his fingers and face. His eyes were tightly shut closed and his lips slightly parted. His eyelids twitched occasionally.

“Don’t just stand there, dumbass,” Chloe snapped Nathan out of his reverie. “Help me get him on the bed.”

She grabbed his legs and he grabbed his armpits and both of them lifted Warren onto the bed. Chewie paced anxiously around the room, stopping sometimes to lick at Warren’s hand. Nathan hovered the back of his hand over Warren’s mouth. “He’s still breathing.”

“What the fuck just happened?” Chloe asked.

“I don’t know.”

Warren roused a few seconds later. His hands twitched and he opened his eyes before shutting them again, as if the light gave him a headache. He groaned in pain.

“You okay?” Nathan asked.

Warren grunted in response. He didn’t know if it was a positive grunt or a negative grunt. He sat up on the bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. Chewie barked and Warren flinched.

“Do you need anything? Painkillers?” Chloe asked. 

Warren nodded and moved his hands from his face. “Downstairs to the left is the kitchen. They should be in a cabinet somewhere.” His voice sounded strained.

“Got it,” Chloe said and climbed down the stairs.

“Dude, what happened?” Nathan asked, actually concerned.

“Guess everything got too exciting for me,” Warren shrugged nonchalantly. He tried for a smile, but Nathan didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit. Does this have anything to do with what we have to talk about?” 

Warren looked like he had hoped Nathan had forgotten about it. Well tough fucking luck. He nodded weakly. Then, he brought up his hand to his mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” his voice muffled behind his hand.

Nathan looked around and found a small trashcan next to the television. He quickly gave it to Warren to hugged it against his chest before shoving his face in it and heaving. Nathan sat next to him on the bed, rubbing circles around his back. He didn’t know why he was doing this; the only explanation he could think of was that he was so used to doing it with Victoria so it became natural instinct. It wasn’t because he cared about Warren.

He held Warren’s bangs with his hand and waited it out as Warren burped and puked. It was nearing sundown. The weather was cooler and the room was painted with tinges of orange and pink. Their shadows extended to the far wall. The golden hour.

Chloe returned with a glass of water and two white pills. She grimaced when she saw Warren curled over a trashcan and Nathan prayed she wasn’t one of those people that puke if they see other people puke. There was no way he was going to comfort her.

She sat on the other side of Warren and offered the glass of water. He took the pills drank the whole thing in one go. “Thanks,” his voice was hoarse.

“That was crazy,” said Chloe. “You freaked me out.”

Warren gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

Nathan checked the time on his phone. 6:34PM. Shit. Shit fucking shit fuck. His time was almost up and they still hadn’t found Rachel, let alone Max. He wasn’t going to make it. Victoria wasn’t going to make it.

“We should keep looking,” Nathan suggested, looking for Rachel’s phone. “We need to find Max. Maybe there’s something else on the phone.”

“Max? I thought you only cared about Rachel,” said Chloe. Shit, did he fuck up? Nathan noticed Warren gave him a suspicious look.

“I didn’t say Max, I said Rachel.”

“You said Max,” said Warren.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, we’re looking for the both of them.” Warren looked like he wanted to say something, but he clamped his lips shut. Even after everything Warren still didn’t trust him. It hurt, and Nathan was angry that it hurt.

Chloe pulled Rachel’s phone from her back pocket and looked through the messages again. “Who’s ‘Bottle Blonde Bitch’?” Nathan leaned over so he could look at the screen.

**[Bottle Blonde Bitch, April 6 10:49 PM]**

_HI WHORE I KNO WHAT YOU DID AND YOU BETTER STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM UNLESS YOU WANT A KNIFE UP YOUR USED UP AIDS-RIDDEN CUNT_

**[You, April 6 10:49 PM]**

_The only Aids-ridden used up thing I see here is your sorry ass. I’m sorry that I don’t have time to indulge you in your petty threats, BB. Why don’t you go back on your knees in front of a toilet, since that was the only thing you did right in your life_ :*

**[Bottle Blonde Bitch, April 6 10:51 PM]**

_WATCH YOUR FUCKING BACK_

**[Bottle Blonde Bitch, April 15 11:48 AM]**

_I WARNED YOU_

**[You, April 15 11:48 AM]**

_THAT WAS YOU?!_

**[Bottle Blond Bitch, April 15 11:49 AM]**

_ENJOY YOUR SUSPENSION BITCH_ :*

**[You, April 15 11:51 AM]**

_I better not see you again or I swear to GOD I’m going to punch the highlights out of your hair and make you WISH you died back in middle school. I can make your life a lot worse bitch so don’t fucking test me._

“Holy fucking shit,” said Nathan. 

“I didn’t know Rachel had enemies,” said Warren.

“Who the _fuck_ is this bitch?” Chloe glared at the phone like it offended her somehow.

“I think it’s Victoria,” Nathan said. He always knew Victoria and Rachel never got along but he had no idea it was _this_ bad. He wished he’d known sooner. If he had any idea Rachel talked to Victoria like this, he wouldn’t have pined after her for so long.

“That bitch’s got another thing coming if I ever see her. It’s gotta be her, these are clear threats.”

“The date’s all wrong though. This took place a week before Rachel’s disappearance. It couldn’t have been Victoria,” Warren said. Nathan was touched that he defended Victoria, but it was probably because it didn’t make any logical sense.

Chloe grumbled in assent before moving on to the next one. “Does anyone know who ‘Tall Dark And Handsome’ is?”

“No clue,” said Nathan.

**[Tall Dark And Handsome, April 22 4:23 PM]**

_I want to see you today. Can I pick you up?_

**[You, April 22 4:23 PM]**

_Yeah. Let me stop by my house so I can get a change of clothes._

**[Tall Dark And Handsome, April 22 4:23 PM]**

_I’ll pick you up at the same place as usual and we can go to the studio._

**[You, April 22 4:24 PM]**

_Sure._

**[Tall Dark And Handsome, Aprill 22 4:24 PM]**

_Something wrong?_

**[You, April 22 4:24 PM]**

_There’s something I need to tell you but you have to promise not to freak out okay?_

**[Tall Dark And Handsome, April 22 4:25 PM]**

_I promise not to freak out. What is it?_

**[You, April 22 4:33 PM]**

_I’ll tell you at the studio. Chloe’s dropping me off now so I’ll talk to you later. Love you._

**[Tall Dark And Handsome, April 22 4:33 PM]**

_I love you too._

“Fuck,” Chloe whispered, her voice breaking.

“All these take place the same day she went missing,” said Warren. “I think we found our culprit.”

“How could she do that? Say she loves him and then look at me and say she loves me? I was _with_ her! All this was happening and I was just sitting next to her like a dumbass!”

“Did you notice anything weird about her that day?” Warren asked.

“She was sick, but that was it! I mean, yeah, she was acting off but she just spent all day bent over a toilet. She didn’t even tell me she was going to a photoshoot.”

“Who is he, anyway?” Warren asked.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Chloe pressed the ‘Call’ button on the phone.

She put the phone on speaker and all three of them waited with bated breath as the phone kept ringing. The suspense was killing Nathan. If he could find out who ‘Tall Dark And Handsome’ is he just might be able to find Max before 8PM. He only had one hour left. If this wasn’t it then it was all over. The phone stopped ringing. 

_“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice mailing system. Please try again later.”_

Shit. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck!”_ Nathan stood up and paced the room, his hands coming up to his head to pull at his hair. “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Nathan, calm down! It’s not the end of the world.” Warren tried calming him down, but it didn’t work. 

“We were so close! We were so goddamned close—fuck!” Nathan could feel his throat close up and he struggled to breathe. 

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Warren stood up and grabbed Nathan by the shoulders. “Nathan, breathe!”

“I never do anything right. I always fuck everything up! I couldn’t even save her. I can’t save her, I can’t!” Victoria was going to San Francisco and it was all his fault. He wasn’t good enough to stop it.

“Please!” Warren grabbed Nathan’s face and forced him to look up. “Look at me. I _promise_ you we’re going to find her. Both of them. We’re going to find them both and bring them home.”

“It’s too late,” Nathan whispered.

“It’s not too late. It’s not. They’re out there somewhere.”

Nathan shook his head and Warren’s hands fell to his side. “There’s no time left. It’s too late.” 

Chloe sat back at the bed, staring at the both of them, unamused. Her lips were in a thin line of disapproval and her nostrils flared in disgust. She said nothing during all of this.

“Let’s call it a day,” said Warren. “I’ll drive you to the lighthouse and I’ll drop off Nathan to his car. I’ll look into ‘Tall Dark And Handsome’ and let you guys know, okay?”

Nathan didn’t give two shits who ‘Tall Dark And Handsome’ was. Not anymore. Not if there wasn’t any time left. Not if Victoria was going to be shipped off to San Francisco. He nodded solemnly and followed Warren and Chloe to the car.

ooo

He drove slowly back to Blackwell. The clock on his car read some other fucking time that wasn’t the actual time, but Nathan didn’t care to check what time it really was. Pulling up to the parking lot, he realized it didn’t matter. It was nighttime. The moon was high in the sky and the sky was a black expanse with only two stars barely visible. There weren’t any clouds and it wasn’t hot anymore. Perfect weather for a football game.

His phone vibrated, a message from Victoria.

**[Victoria, Today 7:54 PM]**

_Hey sweet cheeks where are you?_

**[Victoria, Today 7:54 PM]**

_I know youre not about to miss the contest announcement_

**[You, Today 7:55 PM]**

_im on my way 2 the bleachrs_

The football field was packed. The players hadn’t shown up yet but the cheerleaders were driving the crowd wild. Dana was leading them with flashy backflips and pompoms. He spotted Victoria sitting at the center next to Juliet, who had a poster with Zachary’s name on it. She waved Nathan over and he had to push his way to the seat she reserved for him at her right.

“I’m so fucking nervous,” Victoria had to say it directly in his ear for him to hear it above the noise.

“I know,” said Nathan.

“He should be coming out soon. I feel like I’m going to die from the suspense.”

The cheerleaders finished their routine and Dana spoke into the mic. “Thank you all for coming to the game tonight! Who’s ready to see some Bigfoots?” The crowd whooped and stomped their feet, the signature cheer for their sports team. “Alright! But before we can get it on with the big game, Blackwell’s favorite teacher has to make an announcement first! Give a huge Bigfoot welcome to Mark Jefferson!”

The crowd exploded in applause and Jefferson walked out into the field. He looked out over the crowd and lay his eyes directly on Nathan. Time seemed to slow around him and he lightly shook his head. Jefferson’s lips twitched for a fraction before curling them into a charming smile. He tapped at the mic to make sure it was working. “Thank you… Thank you, everybody. I appreciate it.” He patiently waited for the applause to die down. 

“I’m sure you’re all dying to watch the game, but it’s time to announce the winner of the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest,” Nathan zoned out during most of the speech. He was staring straight ahead, not daring to look at Victoria, whose fists were clenched above her lap. He stared at Jefferson, all charm and good looks and talent. All lies and deceits and masks. Victoria was going to suffer for his mistakes. Nathan’s eyes pooled with tears. He couldn’t do it. He was too late. “—you’re all ‘Everyday Heroes’!” The crowd cheered and Jefferson asked for the envelope.

Victoria grabbed his hand and began squeezing it tightly. Nathan squeezed it back.

“And the winner is…”

_I am so sorry, Victoria. I am so, so sorry._

“Stella Hill!”

The crowd went wild. Victoria removed her hand from Nathan’s and buried her face in them. Nathan’s heart had stopped. He couldn’t believe it.

He looked over from where Stella had gotten up from her seat and had her hands over her mouth. Warren was with her, patting her in the back, pushing her to go to the field. Nathan couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my God! Thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson!” Jefferson gave Stella the mic and she addressed the audience. “And I want to thank everyone who believed in me and stood by me! I promise I’m going to make you all proud. And—And I’m going to represent Blackwell to the best of my ability, I promise!” She wiped some tears that rolled off her cheeks. “Go Bigfoots!” She pumped a fist in the air and the crowd went wild.

Nathan’s eyes never left Jefferson. Jefferson stole another glance at Nathan as he was walking out of the field. Next to him, Victoria was struggling to keep her composure. “I’m gonna go, okay Nate? I’ll see you later.” 

“Do you need me to go with you?” Asked Nathan, taking her hand.

“No, I—I just need to be alone for a second. I’ll be back for the afterparty. Come to my room later.”

Nathan kissed the back of her hand before letting it go. “Take care, Vic.”

He left after she did. There was no point in sticking around. Nathan hated football and all the noise and the sweaty overexcited crowd. His burner phone vibrated in his back pocket. He took it out. He had about a thousand messages from Frank—which he ignored—and one from Jefferson.

**[Unknown, Today 8:12 PM]**

_Meet me under the bleachers._

Heart in his throat, he weaved through the crowd, pushing aside some poor fuck that got in his way. Under the bleachers was loud, with people stomping their feet right next to him, but it was empty, except for Jefferson who waited for him. He stood close to him so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice.

“Why’d you do it?” Nathan asked. “Why didn’t you pick Victoria? Why make me go through all that shit?”

“I’m disappointed you couldn’t find Max, but it wasn’t a surprise. They’ve opened a case and actual investigators can’t find so much of a trace of where she’s gone. Truth be told, I didn’t expect you to do any better than them.”

“Why did you threaten Victoria, then?”

“You wouldn’t have looked for Max otherwise.”

The painfully familiar anger flared up Nathan’s throat. Something must’ve happened in the game because some horns went off and completely masked Nathan’s enraged shouting.

“I didn’t hear that and I’m going to pretend you didn’t say it,” said Jefferson, coldly. 

“Fuck you.”

Jefferson ignored that. “I guess we’ll just have to make do without Max. Stella’s a good replacement, but she’s nothing compared to her. She’s better than Victoria, though. In the meantime, I may have another project ready. Are you interested?”

Nathan, for all his rage and indignation, couldn’t refuse the offer. He felt like a puppy that had been kicked over and over again and kept returning to his master.

“Come by the barn tomorrow and I’ll give you the instructions,” said Jefferson and he turned away to leave. “Oh, wait. That reminds me. The strangest thing happened today,” he turned back around. “I got a call from Rachel.”

Nathan’s heart stopped.

“Of course, we both know that’s not possible, so just try to keep an ear out for who it was. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nathan.” 

Jefferson left.

ooo

Nathan coped with the information the only way he knew how—getting high. He wiped any stray powder off his nostrils and passed the rolled paper to Victoria, who was preparing her own line. 

He had no idea who won the game, but he assumed it was the Bigfoots with all the cheer that everyone had at the party. It wasn’t a Vortex Club party, but there was still the VIP section with drugs and alcohol; all courtesy of Nathan Prescott.

The party had been set up in the gymnasium and all the gym equipment had been pushed to the side to make space for a dance floor. The walls were decorated with banners and posters with the team colors. Red and ivory.

“You know what, that bitch better watch her back because I’m going to make sure her life is hell before she goes to San Francisco,” said Victoria, wiping her nose.

“I don’t doubt it, Vic.” Nathan honestly couldn’t care less what Victoria did to Stella; he was just so glad she wasn’t picked to be put on display.

“And you know what else? Maybe I should tell everyone Mark offered to sleep with me so I could win the contest. I’ll tell everyone that he did the same to Stella and that’s how she won. He’ll get fired and she’ll get expelled. It’s perfect.”

“That’s the blow talking, babe,” Nathan threw his arm around the seat and took a long swig of _Stella Artois._ “You could do better than that.”

Victoria was scraping the label of her own beer with her fingernails. “I just can’t believe he’d choose that sorry poser over me. You saw my entry, it was fucking good. I’ll send it to some other art gallery and I’ll have instant fame.” 

Nathan half-listened to her jealous ranting, absently scraping the label of his beer in subconscious agreement. The coke made him feel confident, like he could take over the world. Like he could walk up to Jefferson and smash his face in for making him go through all that bullshit. But in the end he didn’t pick Victoria. Maybe he did care, and Nathan was wrong. He didn’t know what to think and that was a problem. He took another gulp.

“Sorry to leave ya, Vic, but I got some stuff to take care of. I’ll swing by your room after, ‘kay?” Nathan stood up and stretched his body. 

“Where are you going?”

“Like I said, gots some stuff to do. Plus, this party blows.”

“I hear that,” Victoria said and took a long drink. “See you later, Nate.”

He found himself glancing around the party looking for Warren as he left. He was slightly disappointed when he didn’t find him, but totally unsurprised. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hang around during football games.

**[You, Today 11:52 PM]**

_we still need to talk._

**[Warren, Today 11:56 PM]**

_When?_

**[You, Today 11:57 PM]**

_meet me tomorow @ two whales_

**[Warren, Today 11:57 PM]**

_Ok._

ooo

The chilly night air was a sharp contrast to the heat wave that enveloped Arcadia Bay that morning. White breath appeared before his lips and his ears burned painfully. Nathan wouldn’t have been surprised if it started snowing. The hum of bass got quieter and quieter the farther he went from the gymnasium until all he could hear was footsteps on grass and the chirp of crickets. Near the dormitories, sitting on the base of some stairs and with a glass of bourbon in his hand, was exactly who Nathan had been looking for.

Ray Wells sat hunched over with his head bowed, looking sorry for himself. _Oh how the mighty have fallen._ “Drinking on campus again? I guess it doesn’t matter since you’re going to be sacked by the end of the week, which is,” Nathan pretended to be looking at a watch on his wrist, “tomorrow.”

It looked like it took actual physical effort for Wells to lift up his head and look at Nathan. The stench of whiskey was powerful on his breath. “Watch your mouth. I’m still your Principal for now. Don’t push me.”

Nathan took a swig of his own drink, just to taunt him. His speech was slightly slurred. “I mean not one, but _two_ girls go missing during your term here and another one actually _dies!_ So what do you do? You _fire_ your head of security. I saw that interview today; you were pathetic. Nobody bought your sad excuses. After everything that’s happened nobody will let you even _near_ a school. You’ll become a pariah.”

“I could have you expelled by tomorrow morning,” Wells said, also slurred.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Why _not?”_

Nathan pretended to think about it. “‘cause I’m the only one that can keep you from getting fired.”

“And how, pray tell, would you accomplish that?” Wells asked skeptically.

“My dad can launch a campaign and a hefty donation to Max Caulfield’s safe return in your name. He’ll make a compelling case for you for the board and it’ll put you in the press’ good graces again,” Nathan said it as he rehearsed it.

Wells brow deepened. “What would he want in return for this generosity?” 

“You’ll owe him.”

There was a long stretch of silence as Nathan’s words sank in. Wells swivelled his golden drink and refused to look up. “...And if I refuse?” He asked.

“You can’t.”

He took a deep breath to his nose. Then, his shoulders slumped and bowed his head. Nathan grinned. “I accept.”

“Fantastic,” Nathan said, then reached into his jacket. “And as a reminder of this beautiful partnership.” He took out his Nikon camera and snapped a picture of Wells, who chose to look up at that moment.

Wells put the drink down and got up. “Erase that right now!” He yelled.

Nathan took two steps back, his eyes still to the camera. “Oh, don’t worry about it. My dad’s got a file full of these; it won’t make a difference.” 

Wells flared his nostrils disdainfully before turning on his heel and walking to the building. “You’re a nightmare, you know that? I really wanted to help you, but you can’t be helped. You’re a lost cause.” He called out behind him before slamming the door.

The cocaine helped Nathan convince himself that he didn’t let the words get to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that marks the end of Part 1!
> 
> The chapters will be shorter after this point (and hopefully more frequent), and it will focus more around the relationship between Nathan and Warren. The search isn't over yet, don't worry. Thanks for all your feedback I really appreciate it! We'll have Warren for next chapter, so stay tuned!


	8. Back to the Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering, Exposure is divided into four parts and this here is the beginning of part 2. Thank you guys for sticking with me for so long, but we still have a ways to go!

_October 12_

Warren shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stood outside of Justin’s door. His hand was in a cycle of being brought up and poised to knock against the wood, and then brought down to hang limply against his side. It was his first time making guy friends at Blackwell. Or anywhere, now that he thought about it. So yeah, he had a right to be nervous. His laptop was strapped to his back, _Left 4 Dead_ already loaded and ready to play. To say he was eager would be an understatement. 

_What’s the worst that could happen?_ He came up with a crazy and exaggerated scenario where the zombies reached out through the screen and bit one of them, starting the actual apocalypse. _No, probably not that._ He could get made fun of. Yeah, that was more realistic. If anything, he could always rewind if something embarrassing happened. It was the reminder of his powers that gave him the courage to raise his fist back up. He inhaled through his nose and kno—

“Hey, man, you made it!” A voice called out behind him.

Warren jumped and released a very embarrassing sound. Luke Parker stood behind him, holding a computer bag, his other hand half-raised in a wave. “You startle easy, you know that?” He said.

“I, uh, no, yes, I mean—” Warren struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“Don’t sweat it, dude. I get it,” Luke gave him a comforting smile. He clamped his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the guys.” He didn’t even knock on the door, just opened it with familiar ease. 

Justin’s room was a mess, but cool. It was dark. The only light sources were computer monitors, a television, and a cool lava lamp that gave the room a green tinge. The room smelled like weed that had been poorly masked with febreze. Skateboards with colorful designs were mounted on the wall, over the bed. In the corner, a large and very intricate bong sat proudly. On the floor was opened bags of chips and cans of all kinds of soft-drinks. Justin had a mini fridge. How cool was that?

Justin Williams and Daniel DaCosta both looked up at their entrance. Justin was draped over a couch facing the TV, a wireless keyboard resting on his lap. Daniel was hunched over Justin’s desk with his own laptop.

“This is the guy I was talking ‘bout,” said Luke, his hand still on Warren’s shoulder. “Warren, meet Justin and Daniel. Justin and Daniel, meet—”

“We know who he is, we go to the same school together,” said Justin in a lazy drawl. “Welcome to the _Gamer’s Den_ , bro. Also called the _High Pit,_ or the _Love Cove._ Or just _Justin’s Room._ You know. Depends on the occasion.”

Warren remembered what Chloe said to complement _him._ “Sick room,” he repeated, trying to sound as cool as she did.

“So you know each other,” said Luke, slightly annoyed.

“Yeah, we take English class together,” said Justin, then pointed at Warren. “That was a sick haiku you had the other day, man. I totally relate. I, too, hate cockroaches.”

Warren felt his face heat up at the memory. He scratched the back of his head. “Don’t remind me.”

Daniel turned in his chair to face Warren, his arms resting over the back of it. “Did Luke tell you we were playing _Left 4 Dead,_ Warren?” 

“Yeah, I brought my PC and everything,” Warren placed his bag on the floor. 

“You can set up anywhere you want.”

Warren chose a spot at Justin’s bed and sat cross-legged against the wall. He began taking out his things.

“Where’s Trevor?” Luke asked, looking for a place to set up.

“He’s at the afterparty with Dana,” answered Justin, his eyes glued to the television.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Which part?”

Luke dropped his bag to the floor. “I don’t know, that he’s hanging out with _Dana_ at the _Vortex Club_ party?”

Justin shrugged, not bothered. “It’s cool, we talked it through.”

“And it’s not a Vortex Club party, it’s a football party,” Daniel corrected.

“Same thing!”

Warren always knew Luke hated the Vortex Club, but he was definitely overreacting. Not to mention everybody who was everybody had been dying to go to the ‘End of the World Party’, had it not been canceled. Still, he didn’t say anything, not wanting to ruin any chances he had of friendship.

“Either way, it works out,” said Justin. “ _Left 4 Dead_ is for four people and we got four people. It’s cool. Right, Warren?”

Don’t bring me into this!! “Yeah, I guess?” Warren said, unsure.

Justin’s plan worked because Luke dropped the matter and set up his computer on a foldable table. “Okay, so. Are we ready?”

“We’ve been ready for five years,” said Justin.

“You’re already on a match!”

Justin exited the match and quickly set up a new campaign. “Now we’re ready. Newbie gets first pick of a character.”

That must be him. Warren picked the girl.

Daniel groaned. “Aw, that’s my pick.” 

Warren flushed and unselected it. “Oh, um, sorry! Here, you can have her.”

Justin tutted. “Nu-uh, Daniel’s just messing with you. In my room, my word is law and I say you pick.”

Daniel chuckled into his hand. “It’s true, sorry Warren.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Luke.

A slow, tentative smile spread itself on Warren’s face. _You’ll get used to it._ He picked the girl.

ooo

Warren was awoken by the crack of a gunshot. 

He shot up in his bed, his heart beating so hard he could hear it. He looked around the dark room, disoriented. His surroundings came to him slowly. The softness of his bed, the sweat clinging to his brow, the soft glow of the stars stuck to his ceiling. It was a nightmare. Relief didn’t come to Warren as it should have. It wasn’t just a bad dream, it was a memory. The events of that day played themselves over his mind again, unbidden. He didn’t think he was going to forget soon.

_The sun shined mercilessly on the back of Warren’s head. His hair was damp, his clothes were damp, everything. He felt an individual drop of sweat trail down his neck, only to get absorbed by the collar of his shirt. The thick canopy of trees above him did nothing to shelter him from the heat._

_Every step he took was agony to him. His right leg couldn’t support him very well and it throbbed painfully whenever he put his weight on it. He tried to walk as casually as he could, but couldn’t cover the fact that he was lagging behind._

“ _Yo. Is there something you’re not telling me?” Nathan had stopped walking to let Warren catch up. Warren would have been touched by the concern, if Nathan didn’t look distinctly annoyed._

_“Uh, no. Why do you ask?” He tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, but it sounded fake even to him._

_“You’re walking like you’ve got a pole shoved up your ass.” Nathan. Ever the poet._

_“It’s not a big deal. I just don’t like hiking.” Another lie._

_Nathan scowled, but shrugged and kept marching on. He walked a few paces in front of Warren, but not enough so that he’d get left behind. At least it was something. Nathan waited for him when he was almost at the peak, not wanting to be the one Chloe saw first._

_Chloe was leaning on the back of the bench that was overlooking the ocean. Her face brightened when she saw him, but that quickly changed when she saw Nathan. Warren really shouldn’t have been surprised with her reaction. “What the fuck is he doing here?”_

_“You didn’t tell her I was coming. Great plan, genius.” He heard Nathan’s sarcastic remark behind him._

_“If I had told her she might not’ve come.” It wasn’t a good plan and he was ashamed at the deception._

_“Damn right, I wouldn’t have come! What the fuck do you think you’re doing siding with that rich snob?”_

_Nathan scoffed and stepped around Warren. “Is that the worst insult you can think of? Calling me rich? That’s fucking precious. Let me know if you need a dictionary, you illiterate bitch.”_

_“Guys, that’s not—” Warren started, but was cut off. He underestimated how much they hated each other. This wasn’t how he thought this was going to go at all._

_Chloe ignored him, her eyes never leaving Nathan. “Why the fuck are you looking for Rachel? Did you have something to do with her?”_

_“No!” Warren stepped between them again. “Chloe, he didn’t have anything to do with her.”_

_“That’s right, dyke. I’m helping out of the goodness of my heart,” said Nathan with an obvious sarcastic undertone that really wasn’t helping calm Chloe down._

_“Bullshit. You don’t have a heart,” she snapped._

_Nathan laid a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Price.”_

_“Did you even fucking know Rachel?”_

_Nathan pushed past Warren, knocking his shoulder on the way. “I knew her better than you ever did, bitch.”_

_“Guys—” Warren tried again._

_“Ha! That’s a fucking load of shit. Me and Rachel were inseparable. I loved her and she loved me.”_

_Nathan released an ugly, horrid laugh. High pitched and obviously fake. “That’s fucking hilarious. I bet she told you you were the only one right?”_

_“The fuck are you getting at, Prescott?”_

_Fuck, he was going to tell her. Not yet, don’t tell her yet. “Nathan, don’t—”_

_“Rachel ‘loved’ you and about ten other people. You’re not that special, Princess.”_

_Chloe’s fists clenched and her body trembled in sheer rage. “That’s a lie.”_

_Nathan’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. He clasped his hands together and stepped closer to Chloe. “Oh really? Well, why don’t you ask your buddy Frank and hear what he has to say on the matter?”_

_Chloe took an instinctual half-step backwards. “You’re fucking lying. Rachel would never betray me.”_

_Nathan didn’t give a fuck, apparently relishing the moment. “It’s true. Rachel was a cocksucking whore.” Warren noticed too late that Chloe had reached behind to the small of her back. She pulled out her gun and aimed it at Nathan’s chest._

_“You shut the fuck up right NOW, Prescott!”_

_But Nathan was fast too, and the second she drew her weapon, he drew his. A pistol, similar to Chloe’s, also aimed at her chest. They stood a few feet apart from each other, guns extended, gazes unwavering._

_Warren thought he was going to have a heart attack. Out of ALL the scenarios he thought might happen, this one wasn’t even on the list. “Oh fuck! Chloe! Nathan! Put those down, we can talk this through!” His hands flew up to pull at his hair._

_Both Chloe and Nathan’s hand shook, but their shoulders were squared and determined. Chloe breathed hard through her nose. “You’re not the only one with a gun now, Prescock.”_

_“Is that supposed to intimidate me?” Answered Nathan, with, Warren knew now, false bravado. “You wouldn’t pull the trigger.” Fucking fuck, what the hell was wrong with people challenging Chloe to shoot them?_

_“Nathan, Chloe, please put the guns down. We didn’t come here for this; we came here to find Rachel.” Warren pleaded._

_Chloe’s eyes never left Nathan’s. “I am NOT working with this piece of shit liar.” Her grip tightened against the gun._

_Warren might be able to work with this. If Nathan would only shut the fuck up—_

_“Can’t handle the fucking truth, can you, Price?” Of course Nathan didn’t shut up. His pride or whatever getting in the way of that. His grip slackened a faction, out of cockiness or carelessness it didn’t matter. He habitually stepped closer. “Rachel got on her knees for Frank and fucked—”_

_A shot rang out._

_Nathan collapsed._

_“No!” Warren ran towards him and threw himself on his knees. Blood pooled from Nathan’s chest and he stared lifelessly at the sky. His mouth was ajar. Warren shook him, not knowing what else to do. “Nathan, Nathan!”_

_Chloe stood behind him, in absolute shock. “...I just killed Nathan Prescott. Oh my God. Oh my fucking…” Her sentence trailed off unfinished._

_Nathan was dead. Nathan was dead, Nathan was dead, and it was all his fault. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Nathan! No!” Warren’s breathing quickened and his eyes burned. Behind him, Chloe remained silent._

_He almost remembered too late he could prevent all this. Without giving it a second thought, he rewound as far back as he could. He watched Nathan get up, the blood gathering itself into his body, the flash of the gun, the taunting, Nathan coming up at the clearing. He could see Max by the benches, but he didn’t care at that moment. All he knew was that Nathan was going to live this time._

ooo

Warren tapped the butt of his pencil against the sheet of paper in front of him. The words ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON’ were underlined on the top of the page, underneath crossed out versions of ‘Where is Max?’, ‘Time Power Theories’, and ‘Strange Anomalies’. 

Rachel’s phone sat on his desk next to him. Nathan’s pistol was hidden away in some corner of the room where he didn’t have to look at it. So much shit had been going on, and Warren didn’t have the time (as ironic as that was) to sit down and figure it out, until now.

First things first, his time powers. He had no idea for how long he’d had them, before they were triggered. He wrote down _‘Unlocked by trauma’._ Kate’s suicide had triggered his powers, forcing him to watch her die over and over again as he tried to make sense of it. A flood of guilt overwhelmed him as he realized now what he couldn’t realize then. He was the only one who could’ve saved Kate. 

Maybe that was why they had triggered. Not because of trauma, but because of purpose. Maybe the whole reason he had received them in the first place was to save her and he blew it. No, it didn’t make any scientific sense that his powers were bestowed upon him by the universe or magic or whatever. But he was finding that a lot of things didn’t make sense nowadays.

In the second point he wrote _‘Max is related?’._ If it was true, and his powers were given to him for a reason, maybe it wasn’t just about Kate. Max had gone missing around that time. Maybe he was supposed to find her. This was made especially plausible since he could see her whenever he used his powers at certain locations. Or he could see things that changed from her interaction with them. 

Max had been at Frank’s trailer yesterday. She was snooping around, like always, and she came across the same piece of evidence that Nathan and Warren did. Which brought him to his next point: _‘Max is looking for Rachel?’._ He saw her at the trailer, she showed him where Frank’s ledger was, she showed him how to open the grate with the knife. It couldn’t have been a coincidence but what did it mean? Maybe it wasn’t really her but her ghost, trying to lead him to something really, really horrible. He crossed out _‘Max is dead’_ as soon as he wrote it, and kept crossing it out until he could no longer see the outline of it on the page. _Think positive, Warren._ There had to be another reason.

Setting that matter aside, he brought his focus back to his powers. The mechanics of them. Just as he had theorized, once he had some rest, his powers returned to him fully recharged. But that wasn’t the only thing that he noticed. He could rewind further back now. He had set up a timer and learned he could rewind a few seconds extra. Not much, but it was something. 

If he pulled too far back, his powers would exhaust quicker and he would be able to rewind less and less. If he rewinded in short bursts, it was more doable, but too much of them and he’d be stuck with the same problem. Not to mention he’d get hit with massive vertigo and a head-splitting headache. And the nosebleeds. The nosebleeds couldn’t be anything good.

And he fainted, sometimes. He couldn’t remember anything after he fainted, he just felt cold and sick. 

So he had to use his power sparingly. He had no idea what effect it would have on his body. The temptation to use it for fun or to avoid an awkward situation was strong, though. Maybe he could train it, get more time, and lessen the side effects. He outlined the pros and cons of training his power. The cons outnumbered the pros, but the ability to rewind for longer periods of time outweighed the side effects. 

His phone chimed in his pocket and he fished it out. It was a message from Nathan, and Warren’s heart sank to his stomach.

**[Prescott, Today 11:45 AM]**

_u still hav my gun_

**[Prescott, Today 11:45 AM]**

_and we still need 2 talk_

Warren scrunched his nose at Nathan’s contact name and changed it. Maybe a few days ago he wouldn’t have minded, but now it was too impersonal for him.

**[You, Today 11:47 AM]**

_I’ll give it back soon_

**[Nathan, Today 11:48 AM]**

_u will give it back TODAY_  
_two whales @ 1pm_

**[You, Today 11:49 AM]**

_Calm your tits I didnt forget._

But he did. He completely forgot about the incident yesterday where he practically revealed his powers to Nathan. He wondered what he was going to do.

**[Nathan, Today 11:49 AM]**

_dont talk about my tits_

Warren snorted at the text. Before, he would have thought Nathan was serious, but he was getting used to the guy and learned this was just his way of showing his sense of humor.

**[You, Today 11:49 AM]**

_But theyre just so titillating_ ;D

**[Nathan, Today 11:50 AM]**

_shut the fuck hell up Graham_

Warren smiled at the response, but his smile dissolved when he remembered he had to tell Nathan about his powers. Then he wondered: would that be so bad? The number one rule in getting a superpower is tell no one about your superpower. But then again, there was always that one person the hero trusted.

Did he trust Nathan?

If there was one thing Warren learned the past two days is that Nathan wasn’t as bad as he seemed. There were moments where he showed his fun or caring side. He was rude, but he wasn’t a bad person. Warren was sure of that. 

Then, what happened to Kate?

Warren needed to know before he made the decision.

ooo

The tiles of the bathroom floor were cold underneath his bare feet. Once he made sure Logan and Zachary weren’t around to torment him—they weren’t, thank God—he stepped inside the showers and began disrobing. His right leg still lightly throbbed and he was careful when removing his pants. He hissed when he saw the bruise underneath. It had turned a dark purple with green and blue splotches. It hurt just looking at it. If he focused hard enough, he could probably still feel the dog’s teeth sinking into his flesh.

_Warren felt guilty about what they did to that poor dog, but Nathan kept assuring him ‘the mutt’s fine, quit your whining’. Not that it did anything to help his mood. But the plan had worked, and that was what mattered. The stray’s whining lured Frank away from his RV. They didn’t know how much time they had before he returned, so they tried to sneak into his trailer quickly and quietly._

_Except that when Nathan opened the door, a dog jumped out and everything went south._

_The dog was small, but strong, and very, very angry. It jumped out of the trailer with bared fangs, and the momentum he hit Nathan with was enough to knock him back to the ground. It viciously snapped its jaws at the air in front of Nathan’s face. The only thing holding him back from tearing it out, was Nathan’s hand, which was holding it by the throat._

_“Shit! Fuck, get him off me!” Nathan yelled and the dog only struggled more. “Don’t just stand there, kick him!”_

_He didn’t want to hurt the dog, but he didn’t have a choice. Its efforts were getting stronger as it got angrier. Nathan’s arm faintly trembled at the strain of keeping it at bay. Warren lifted his leg to kick it off, but the dog saw it coming. Before his could make contact with the body, the dog switched his attention from Nathan to Warren and clamped his jaws right on Warren’s leg. It dragged it backwards with such a force that Warren fell to the floor. Warren couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything except scream and attempt to kick the dog off him with his good leg. His jeans protected him from drawing blood, but the dog was vicious and caused him damage anyway._

_Nathan picked up a bat—Warren didn’t know from where nor did he care—and swung it at the dog. With a yelp, the dog fell limp. Blood pooled from its head and was absorbed by the sand. Everything was quiet again, save Warren and Nathan’s heavy breathing._

_“Shit,” Warren breathed, sitting up on his elbows._

_“Can you move it?” Nathan asked, referring to the leg._

_Warren lifted it experimentally. “Yeah. But it hurts like hell.”_

_Without asking, Nathan kneeled in front of Warren and rolled up his pants leg. The area was red and bite marks were prominent. It was no doubt going to bruise, but at least he wasn’t bleeding. “You’ll be fine,” he declared, then turned to look at the dog. “Which is more than I can say for him.” Warren felt terrible. Sure, the dog had tried to kill them, but that didn’t mean it had to die._

_“Frank’s gonna kill me if he finds out I killed his dog,” Nathan ran his hand through his hair._

_“Yeah…” Was all Warren could say._

_“Can you stand?” Nathan extended a hand to help him up._

_“Maybe,” Warren took it and used Nathan as a balance to get up. His leg hurt whenever he put weight on it._

_“Come on. I don’t know how much time we have left.”_

_Warren shot another glance at Frank’s dog. He didn’t want to leave it like this. Even if the bruising will still be there, at least the dog might have another chance at life. He rewinded._

ooo

The weather was acting pretty normal for today, thank God. No freak snow, eclipses, or dead animals dropping from the sky, at least. Warren hoped he hadn’t spoken too soon, since it wasn’t even noon yet. But a guy could hope.

He ran into Stella on the way to the parking lot, who was looking a less cheerful that he expected her to be, considering she just won the ever-coveted ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest. She sat at her usual bench, her arms folded in front of her, picking absentmindedly at the sleeves of her hoodie. Warren knew just how to fix that.

“Introducing the new _Everyday Hero,_ Stella Hill!” He spoke into his hand as if it was a microphone. She laughed into her hand when she saw him approach. “And the crowd goes wild!” He produced a breathy noise to simulate it.

She snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully. “Stop it, Warren,” she said, still smiling.

“So,” he jumped to sit at the bench beside her, “how does it feel to win a free trip to San Francisco?”

She rested her cheek on her hand. “Feels pretty good.”

Warren waved at the bench. “Why’re you out here moping then instead of living the dream?”

Her hand dropped to rest at the crook of her elbow. “Well, you know I wasn’t the only one who wanted to win.”

“Thinking about the little people? That’s humble of you. You’re the envy of other guys and girls. Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” said Warren.

“Yeah, except I’m the envy of Victoria as well.”

Something clicked in his brain. That was why she was upset. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said, _“oh.”_

“Did something happen?” He asked, a lot more serious.

She stopped looking at him and switched her gaze to her hands, which were playing with the strings of her hoodie. “Nothing yet, but I fear she’s going to turn it into something huge.” 

“Turn what into something huge?”

“This morning, when I woke up, I saw that my room slate was changed to _‘WHORE’_ and _‘COCKSUCKER’._ ”

 _“What?”_ Warren was horrified. 

She raised her gaze to meet his. “I mean, I’m not going to let Victoria get to me, I don’t really give a shit what she says to be honest. It just reminds me of Kate, and what happened to her.”

“Jesus Christ, didn’t she fucking learn?” Warren couldn’t wrap his mind around why someone would be so cruel for no reason.

“Guess not. I’m not like Kate, though. I’m not just going to sit around and let myself get walked all over. At the end of the day, _I’m_ the one going to San Francisco with Mr. Jefferson, not her.”

“Damn right, you are. Congratulations on that, by the way. In case I haven’t said it enough.”

“You’ve said it plenty,” she leaned up to him and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Warren.”

“No problem. Let me know if she gives you any more trouble,” he said, getting up from the bench.

“Sure.”

ooo

And now, for the moment of truth. Warren sat in his car at the Two Whales’ parking lot. He squeezed and twisted his hands at the steering wheel nervously. The gun sat in the backseat, inside Nathan’s vest. It wasn’t like he had a choice. He practically revealed his powers to him. When Rachel’s dad ordered Nathan to empty his pockets, there wasn’t much else he could do. He grabbed the phone straight out of the dad’s hands—a bold move in itself—and rewound. It saved their asses, but also revealed his powers to Nathan.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. After giving it some thought, he concluded that he did like Nathan, as rude as the guy could be. Not that he knew him that well, but Warren felt like he learned more about Nathan these past few days than anyone else at Blackwell. Even if Nathan couldn't remember half of their interactions, Warren still felt like something akin to a bond had formed between them. Saving the guy's life could do that. And he supposed that should Nathan have a bad reaction, he could always rewind and not tell him. 

Gathering some of the courage he came to posses only recently, he stepped out of the car and into the diner.


	9. Sympathy for the Devil

_October 12_

Waking up was never hard for Nathan. Waking up with a _hangover,_ however, was almost impossible. 

The light that poured through the slits of his eyes nearly overwhelmed him, and he wasn’t even near the window. He almost forgot where he was, but a quick glance around told him he was at Victoria’s room, and the events of last night played themselves in his head. He had an uncomfortable crick in his neck from the position he slept in; draped across Victoria’s couch, his head lying in an uncomfortable angle on the cushion, and his right arm extended over the arm of the couch, resting lazily on the frame of Victoria’s bed. Victoria herself slept on the bed, but on the opposite side so she was facing Nathan. Her fingertips were resting over his wounded knuckles.

With a groan, he stretched his entire body, the joints making loud popping sounds. He removed his hand from underneath Victoria’s, and she stirred. He sat up to look at her. Nathan felt a tug of pain as the previous night was marked on Victoria’s features. Her mascara was smudged and the black ink had dried upon her cheeks. There was a fine line between her brows that told Nathan she wasn’t having a good dream. 

As for himself, he had woken up way later than he would have liked. His clothes still reeked of sweat and alcohol from the after party. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he sat up and took out his phone.

He pressed his thumb and index finger against his eyes, trying to force them to adjust faster. No new messages on his personal phone. What a relief. His disposable phone had a few from a very angry drug dealer, but nothing that really mattered. The messages he sent to Warren stood out for him, and he remembered that he had weird shit to sort out pronto.

**[You, Today 11:45 AM]**

_u still hav my gun_

**[You, Today 11:45 AM]**

_and we still need 2 talk_

Warren’s reply came two minutes later and the phone chimed loudly. Nathan flinched at the sound, and Victoria muttered something against her pillow. Since when did he have the sound on his phone? He fought a sudden urge to slam it against the wall.

“Nate?” Victoria’s muffled voice calmed him down some.

“Mornin’ gorgeous,” he replied.

She lifted her head from the pillow and squinted at him. “What time is it?”

“Too early for you and too late for me,” Nathan slipped on his shoes.

“I drank too much,” she sank her head back to the bed.

“D’you need anything?” He texted Warren directions.

“Stay.” Nathan was really, really tempted to. Especially when she asked with a that sad, half-asleep voice. But he needed to get to the bottom of what was going on and prove he wasn’t crazy.

“Can’t. Sorry.” He sat next to her in the bed and ran his fingers through her short hair. “Just go back to sleep. Text me if you need anything.”

“Fuck everything,” was her last reply. Nathan waited for her breathing to even out before leaving.

ooo

Nathan would give anything for a shower, even if it was in the girls’ dorm. He considered it, until he learned that the hallways were just as crowded as the boys’. Nobody said anything to him as he left Victoria’s room—and he even caught the skater guy leaving Dana’s room—since it wasn’t that rare for Nathan to be seen staying over. Any rumors that started the first time he stayed were quickly shut down and nobody had dared to start any more.

He passed by Stella’s room, seeing that her slate had a string of profanities and recalled a vague memory of changing it with Victoria. He was acutely reminded of Kate and what he did to her, and he hurriedly wiped off the message with the hem of his sleeve. 

It was already noon, so he didn’t have time to run to his house and take a shower, tempting as it was. He stopped by his room and grabbed a change of clothes instead. Not knowing how the fuck the weather was going to be that day, he chose to wear less layers than usual. He settled for a casual long-sleeved maroon shirt with black sleeves, simple jeans, and derby’s. He felt naked without all the extra layers, but he did _not_ want a repeat of yesterday.

He hoped cologne and mouthwash would hide the fact he hadn’t bathed and stepped outside to make it to the diner before Warren did.

ooo

Warren was late, as usual. And Hope was still there. She looked at him from across the diner, scrunched her nose, and scurried away. Nathan received some satisfaction knowing that her day was just as badly ruined by his presence as his was by hers. While waiting for Warren to show up he went through all the possible theories in his head—about what was going on—until finally settling on one explanation. 

He _really_ hoped he wasn’t crazy.

Warren did, eventually, show up; fifteen minutes late, of course. He walked cautiously (he still had that limp Nathan noticed yesterday; he made a note to ask him about that as well), like he wasn’t sure what to expect from the conversation. He sat across from Nathan, giving him a nervous smile and a polite greeting.

“Where’s my gun?” Was the first thing Nathan asked.

“It’s at my car. You didn’t expect me to bring it to the diner, did you?” 

“No,” Nathan said, “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget.”

“Right.” Warren’s gaze switched from between his hands, to the menu, to a ketchup bottle, to the window. Anywhere but Nathan. So they were going to do this the hard way.

“Tell me what the—”

“Are you gentlemen ready to order?”

Nathan was going to kill Hope and everybody in this motherfucking diner so help him God. 

Warren, ever the opposite of Nathan, was actually relieved to see the fucking bimbo. “Yeah. Well, I am, at least.”

Hope readied her pen against the pad to take Warren’s order. Anger swelled up in Nathan’s chest. He tugged at the sleeves of his shirt and picked at his scabs. His breathing was losing its rhythm. If he didn’t calm down soon, somebody was going to die tonight. Did he take his pills? He wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll have some chocolate chip pancakes and a coffee. Black, please,” said Warren, and Hope dutifully wrote down his order. She was going to turn to Nathan and he was going to lose it. He braced himself. “He’ll have some belgian waffles with whipped cream. And hot chocolate.”

Nathan’s head snapped up so fast something cracked. How the _fuck_ did Warren know his usual? This only reinforced his theory further. Hope repeated the order back to them and left when Warren gave her the approval. Once again, Warren chose not to look at Nathan, and played with the cuticles of his nails.

“How the _fuck_?” Nathan asked.

Warren gave him a one-shoulder shrug. “Like you said, something’s going on.”

“Tell me.”

This time, Warren raised his head to look him straight in the eye. “First I’d like to ask a question.”

That wasn’t a part of the deal. Not that there was a deal in the first place, but if there was, that wasn’t a part of it. Still, Nathan supposed it was only fair. He didn’t like it, but from the look Warren was giving him he wasn’t going to divulge anything until Nathan answered. He leaned back in his seat casually, to hide his apprehension. “Shoot.”

“Did you drug Kate?”

Ah, so it was back to this. It always came back to Kate. Telling the truth was out of the question. One thing would lead to another and everything will unravel before him. Nathan maintained his poker face and said _no_ with such certainty that he hoped Warren would never question him about it again.

He only felt a little bad about it when Warren breathed out in relief, all stiffness in his posture gone. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Nathan was glad he lied, if only for that. “Good!” Warren said, and all the tension from a few seconds ago lifted with that word. 

“So,” Nathan asked, “are you going to tell me what’s going on yet?”

Warren leaned forward on the table, resting his elbows on the surface. “What do you think is going on?”

There it was, the moment of truth. It was crazy, but it was the only thing that made sense. It shouldn’t be possible but the proof was there and everything led up to that conclusion. Nathan took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. 

Leaning forward himself, he said, “You’re psychic.”

After a few seconds of silence, Warren began to laugh. Nathan’s face heated up from anger and embarrassment. _Psychic._ What the hell was he thinking? “Fuck you!” He stood up from the table and began to leave, before he did something he would regret, but Warren grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“No, no, I’m sorry!” Warren wheezed between his laughter. “Please sit back down. You’re not that far off the mark.”

Nathan was fuming, but despite everything, he did want to know what was going on. Very badly. He sat back down, arms crossed. Warren said he wasn’t that far off the mark. What did that mean? Nathan struggled to keep his temper in check while he waited for Warren to calm down. 

“Okay, okay,” Warren’s laughter finally died down, but the fucker was out of breath. He took a moment to compose himself. “I’m not psychic. It’s kind of the opposite.”

“Go on?”

“First, you have to _swear_ not to tell anyone.”

If Nathan wasn’t interested before, he was now. “I swear.”

“Not Victoria, not the Vortex Club, not anyone.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I swear, okay? Sheesh.”

“Okay,” Warren leaned forward at the table again, and Nathan subconsciously did the same. He lowered his voice and said, “I’m a time traveler.”

Nathan scoffed and leaned back. _Bullshit._ That was what he got for trusting this fucking prick. “You expect me to believe—”

“You expect me to believe—” Warren spoke the same time Nathan did, and Nathan cut himself off.

“What the hell?”

“What the hell?” Again.

“Stop it!”

“Stop it!”

“Warren Graham, I swear to fuck.” Warren didn’t copy him this time.

“Gesundheit,” he said instead.

“What?” Nathan asked, and suddenly got an itch in his nose, which he sneezed out.

In the meantime, Warren was staring at him with the cheekiest grin he’d ever seen. “Stop that!” Said Nathan, wiping his nose with the heel of his palm. “Shit, that’s creepy.”

“So you believe me now?” 

“Fuck, dude.” Time powers? Somehow it seemed even more far-fetched than being psychic. Nathan wasn’t sure if believing him made him crazier, but after that display he wasn’t sure what to believe. “Don’t do that again, or I swear to God—”

“Okay, okay, got it,” said Warren. His hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not gonna rewind anymore. This is new territory for me, okay? I haven’t reached this point of the conversation before.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Warren shrugged. “You just have to trust me.”

Did he trust Warren? Warren trusted him enough to reveal his powers to him. Nathan didn’t know what to think about that, or about anything really.

“Time powers,” he said.

“Time powers,” Warren agreed.

“Shit, dude. That’s kind of…” Nathan struggled to find a word.

“Cool?” Warren supplied.

“Creepy,” Nathan decided.

He was answered with a pout and an almost puppyish look from Warren. Nathan rolled his eyes and finally relented. “Okay, I _guess_ it’s cool.” Warren beamed. “But don’t use them on me again.” 

“I won’t, I promise,” Warren extended his pinky and Nathan stared at it. A _pinky_ promise? What was this guy? Twelve? 

“No,” Nathan said bluntly.

“Come on, how else will you know my word is my bond?” Warren wiggled his pinky. And his eyebrows. It was ridiculous and Nathan found himself suppressing a snort.

Nathan sneered and offered his pinky. Warren took it with enthusiasm. Nathan retracted it almost immediately.

“Anyways, the food’s coming out now,” said Warren.

Nathan’s mouth dropped in outrage. “I told you not to use your powers anymore!”

“I haven’t; the waitress is right there.” 

Sure enough, Hope showed up with their food, and Warren gave him yet another grin. Pancakes for Warren and waffles for Nathan.

“So that’s how you knew what I wanted to order,” Nathan said, pouring syrup over each individual square. 

“Yep.”

When he was done, he passed the syrup to Warren. “Why didn’t you just let me order then?”

“You kind of… lost it,” he watched as Warren poured an obscene amount of syrup over his pancakes. “You yelled out your order between swears, plus you threatened the waitress. I wanted to avoid that.”

“That does sound like something I would do,” Nathan muttered into his mug. 

“That’s because you did.”

He saw all that and still decided to trust Nathan with his secret? Warren either saw something in him or had really bad judgement. “Okay, so how do they work?”

Warren spoke between chewing. “Well, I can’t go forward in time, only backwards. And even then the most I can do is about a minute and a few seconds.”

“That’s kind of lame,” said Nathan.

“I think I can work up to longer spurts, though. I haven’t tried it out. Even then, I only use them for emergencies.”

Nathan looked at him incredulously, “And exactly what part of this was an emergency?”

At this, Warren gave him a sheepish shrug. “They’re still pretty cool, man.”

“So if anything happens, you go back in time for a minute. Is it like a rewind or a skip?”

“A rewind. I can stop it at whatever point I want.”

“And if you try to go further?”

“That’s when shit gets fucked up,” said Warren, rubbing his fingers on his temples. “It’s like playing tug of war with space-time itself. After a certain point I just can’t do it.”

“But you said you could work up to it?”

“Yeah! Well, it’s this theory I have. At first I could only rewind for an exact minute. Then, after using it some, I can rewind for a minute and eight seconds. I’m thinking it’s like a muscle. Like, when you start working out and you get the really heavy weights, you get tired easier and everything hurts like a bitch, but your muscles get stronger. Are you with me?”

“Yeah?”

“If you do, like, light weights you can do more. Eventually you’ll get tired and maybe build up something, but it’s not as quick as when you push yourself. I think my powers are like that. If I work with short bursts I can rewind more times without getting tired, but the longer I rewind the harder it gets, but the longer I’ll be able to rewind in the future. You understand?”

“More or less.”

“Don’t get me wrong, even if it’s for a few seconds, if I rewind too much my head gets affected and I start getting nosebleeds.”

This elicited a sharp memory from a few days ago. _Nathan stopped in the middle of his sentence as blood started trickling down Warren’s nose._ “Wait a minute,” Nathan said, and Warren seemed to have realized his mistake because he quickly distracted himself with his food. “Did you say nosebleed?”

“Uh, maybe I should—” Warren began to lift his hand and Nathan swatted it out of the way.

“No, no, don’t you dare rewind this. You promised,” Nathan showed Warren his pinky for emphasis. “How many times have you used your powers on me?”

“Sincerely? I lost count.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nathan breathed, more surprised than angry. 

“Sorry?” Warren hid a guilty grin behind his mug.

“A few days ago we were talking and you started bleeding. What happened?”

“I wanted to ask you a few questions, about Max. But you kept getting angry and leaving so I had to word them just right.”

Fear crawled up Nathan’s spine. What if he’d accidentally said too much? There was no way he could tell. “What did I say?”

“You told me about Chloe, which is how I knew how to find her.”

Nathan slammed his hand on the table. “I _knew_ you were lying about that!” 

“Well, what was I supposed to say? That I have time powers and you told me the information, but your memory got wiped out? Would you have believed me?”

Nathan knew exactly what he would have done. Laughed at his face, maybe leave the diner and go through the investigation himself. As much as it pained him to admit it, Warren had a point.

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” he leaned back in his seat. “Time powers are fucking weird. I’d prefer a DeLorean, to be honest.”

Warren snorted behind his mug. “I know, right?” 

“You used them yesterday,” he thought about it, “more than once.”

Warren nodded in assent.

“You used them when me and Chloe were arguing… And you fainted. What happened?”

Warren threw his mug back to finish the rest of his coffee before answering. Like he needed to be drunk in order to answer it. Even though it was just motherfucking coffee. “It got physical. And I had rewinded so many times that day that I couldn’t take it anymore, so I fainted. Next thing I knew you guys had made up, so it’s all good.”

“We didn’t ‘make up’,” Nathan added with air quotes.

“I know, but close enough.”

“Which brings me to my next point. You absolutely used them when we were at Rachel’s house. You had the phone with you.” 

“Her parents had taken the phone, so I took it and rewound. My physical body gets transported when I go back in time, so the phone stayed with me.”

“Scared the shit out of me.”

Warren rubbed the back of his head. “Haha, sorry about that.”

Nathan sighed. “I get it, you had to.” He was already done with his meal, and the waitress had taken both of their plates away. That was when he remembered something that had been bothering him. “You have a limp. You said it wasn’t a big deal, but it was because of your powers, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Hurts like a bitch. Remember when we had to get in the trailer and Frank’s dog jumped out?”

Nathan got the picture. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” Warren said. “Ouch.”

Nathan folded his arms over his chest and tried to think of another instance where it was obvious he used his powers. “How about inside the trailer?”

“Frank caught us and it wasn’t pretty.”

Nathan guessed not. “You knew what was in the vent before I told you about it.”

“Oh. Yeah. I did.” 

Well, that was convincing. Warren’s fragmented sentence and aversion of eye contact was surely an indication that he wasn’t hiding anything. But Nathan couldn’t think of any reason why Warren would lie, so he dropped it. He would bring it up some other time.

“Wait a minute,” said Nathan, his brow furrowed. “You took my gun away right before meeting Chloe.”

Warren slouched in his seat slightly, like he didn’t want to talk about it. He nodded once.

“Tell me what happened.”

Warren swallowed thickly and lifted his gaze to lay it upon Nathan’s. He picked at his cuticles and shrugged. “You died,” was all he said. As if that answered every question.

 _“Fuck,”_ Nathan hissed. He died? He tried wrapping his mind around it. “It was that bitch Chloe, wasn’t it?”

Warren nodded.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you stop me from meeting her in the first place?” Nathan asked, raising his voice.

“I tried, trust me. But you only said ‘What the fuck, Graham, we’re so close to the peak and you want to pussy out now?’” Warren did a spectacular imitation of Nathan. “And you’d just keep going. So the only thing I could think of was to take your gun and warn you not to antagonize her.”

Nathan leaned forward in his seat. “Shit, what happened?”

“You started going off about Rachel and it turned to a Mexican standoff. Chloe shot first and you fell.”

“So your solution was to take away the only means I had to defend myself? Why didn’t you take _her_ gun?”

“Are you kidding? She’s more trigger-happy than you. I was convinced I was going to be the one with holes in my chest if I so much as sneezed at the wrong moment.”

Nathan laughed. He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, hoping it would muffle the noise. He knew what his laugh sounded like, and tried to stop but couldn’t. 

Then Warren started laughing. At him. At his laugh. _That_ got Nathan to stop. “Dude, what the heck? You sound like the Joker.” His laugh was more normal, more quiet. His shoulders shook and his breath came out through his nose. And he had a smile that didn’t look like it was going to cut his face in half. Nathan was envious.

“Fuck you, Graham!” Nathan said, incensed.

“So we’re back to ‘Graham’ now, huh?” Warren said, still laughing.

“Shut the fuck up! Time powers or not I swear I will kill you. Nobody laughs at me!” Nathan rose from his seat, his shoulders hunched over. His gaze switched between Warren and the door, not sure if he wanted to attack or run.

Both of those options disappeared when he felt a warm hand wrap around his wrist. “Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that. I actually kind of like it.” He’d stopped laughing, but there were tears at the corner of his eyes.

“You said I sounded like the Joker,” Nathan said, still guarded.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Don’t feel like you have to hide your creepy laugh from me. We’re friends.”

Nathan froze. Friends? Warren seemed to sense his inner turmoil and slowly unwrapped his hand from Nathan’s wrist. He rubbed the back of his head, like he always did when anxious.

Why did Nathan know that?

“Well, I thought. I guess. I mean—are we friends?” Warren asked delicately.

“I don’t know, _are we?_ ” Nathan asked, not willing to make the decision.

After a few tense seconds, Warren laughed. Nathan’s lips quirked slightly. Warren’s laugh ended in a breathy sigh and said, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

ooo

It was 4pm when Nathan pulled up at the barn. He received a message from Jefferson a few hours ago to get there early and to dress nice. Nathan replied with a ‘I always dress nice’, and didn’t ask any questions, only did as he was told. So after meeting with Warren he drove to the Prescott manor and looked as presentable as he could. He wore a white collared shirt, and a dark steel blue vest over it. His red cardigan and oxfords completed the look.

He styled his hair with gel, this time, and used concealer to hide the bags under his eyes. He had looked in the mirror feeling more like himself than he had the past few days.

Nathan turned off his car’s engine and made his way into the Dark Room. 

Jefferson was already there, as usual, his black jacket hanging neatly over a chair. He was sitting at the couch, his right arm slung over the back of it, a transparent glass filled with bourbon scotch cradled by his left hand. Elegant, dignified, handsome. Everything Nathan aspired to be since he was fifteen. 

He looked up at Nathan’s entrance and fixed him with a charming smile. “Good, you made it. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Nathan shoved his newly bandaged hands into his pants. “So, you gonna tell me what the plan is or are you going to kill me from suspense?” 

Jefferson chuckled and set his glass on the table. He stood before Nathan and looked him up and down. “Good choice in clothing, Nathan. Perfect for a first date.”

“A what?” Nathan asked.

Jefferson moved to the desk where a new binder sat empty before him. Next to it, was a mound of papers. He took them and flipped through the pages, pulling out one. “This is our next model,” he showed him a headshot of a young girl. Nathan took the picture and inspected it closer. “Her name is Hannah. She’s been in an online relationship with you for about two months. Today, you are going to meet in person for the first time.”

He showed Nathan another picture. She was pretty, her hair came down just to her shoulders in delicate waves. She had a round face that pegged her to be anywhere from fifteen years old to eighteen. 

“This is you,” he gave Nathan a printed out screencap of his online profile. Daniel Howe was his pretend name. A picture of someone who definitely isn’t Nathan smiled at him. “You are Daniel Howe, seventeen years old, about to graduate from high school in Newberg. You just scraped enough money from your part-time job as an intern to take her out on a nice date.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Jefferson’s lips quirked in a smirk. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not.” He passed Nathan the other papers. A glance at them told him they were chat logs. From the day they first met, to now. “You’re going to have to drive to Portland for the date. It’s about an hour and a half drive from here, and the date’s at seven, so you might want to brush up on the chat logs before you set out. I already called ahead for a window table at the Veritable Quandary, so try not to be late.”

In the chat logs Jefferson was charming, smooth, and at times awkward (definitely on purpose). Nathan sat down on the couch as he read through them all, occasionally commenting on it. Jefferson, in the meantime, began setting up the studio. Once Nathan reached the end, he threw the papers onto the table. “This is nothing like me,” he said.

“I know,” answered Jefferson. “It’s called acting. I wouldn’t have put you up to this if I didn’t think you could pull it off.”

Jefferson always knew how to get to him. Another praise and Nathan was eating out of the palm of his hand. Being aware of it didn’t make it any less effective. Son of a bitch.

It was a little past five by the time he finished reading. Nathan had made a mess from all the papers two months worth of chatting composed of. Jefferson could have just shown him the actual logs on the computer, but he liked having a physical copy for everything. He stopped Nathan before leaving and gave him a bouquet of flowers. White lilies. Nathan raised an eyebrow. “They’re her favorite,” was all Jefferson said. Nathan rolled his eyes with a curled-lip sneer and left the barn, throwing the bouquet in the passenger’s seat.

 

He made it to Portland at around six thirty, then it took him, like, fifteen fucking minutes just to find parking. He ended up parking by a yellow line (whatever, he would just pay the ticket off, who gave a shit), and on the way to the restaurant he found a parking complex which almost set him off. 

The restaurant was next to a building called _Jefferson Station._ Nathan rolled his eyes at it. It was getting dark, and all the street lamps had turned on. A sign with the letters _VQ_ let him know he had the right place.

The first thing that greeted him through the door was a large pair of breasts. A statue of a topless woman hung on the wall welcomed him and Nathan approved of the decorum. The restaurant itself had a rustic look with brick walls and redwood furniture. There was a small dining area with booths and a few tables and a fully-stocked bar to Nathan’s right. Every single table and barstool had at least one body in them and Nathan found himself knocking shoulders with a few people to get to an area designated as the DINING ROOM.

From there, the hostess greeted him. She flashed a smile and asked for his name.

“Prescott,” he said.

She looked down at her list and Nathan saw the crease between her brow before he realized that he wasn’t Nathan Prescott anymore. “Wait, that was a mistake. Try Howe.”

“There it is, Mr. Howe. Right this way, sir.” She led him to the dining room, a small room with a few tables next to glass windows displaying the beautiful foliage outside. The table had already been set up, with a white dining cloth and a lone candle. It wasn’t extravagant, but it really was nice. The hostess excused herself and Nathan was left to wait for his date.

Nathan was reviewing the plan for about the hundredth time in his head when he saw her. She looked just like the pictures, if only a bit prettier since she was done up for the date. The hostess led her to his table and Nathan stood up to pull out the chair for her, like the perfect gentleman he was pretending to be. She gave him an uncertain smile when she saw him and Nathan acted like he didn’t notice.

“Hi, Hannah,” he said, sitting down.

“It’s so good to see you. I almost didn’t recognize you, though…” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” he went through the lines Jefferson fed him when he mentioned she might ask. “It’s just, I don’t really have a lot of self-esteem. That’s why it took so long to meet. I hope this doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh no no, I actually. Um,” her cheeks turned a deep crimson and she bit her lip bashfully, “you look good. Better, even. I think.”

An unexpected smile spread itself across his face. “Thanks. You too.” He added as an afterthought. 

Nathan could see why Jefferson picked her. She was pretty, very pretty. Her lips were painted a graceful red that matched her neck scarf. The rest of her makeup looked natural. Concealer in a few areas, maybe a hint of a blush, but it was delicate. She wore a low-neck white blouse, but otherwise did nothing to attract attention to her breasts. She was shy and humble, and Nathan found he liked that.

“Oh, I got these for you,” he gave her the bouquet of lilies Jefferson had given him. 

She gasped and held them. “Lilies! I love these! Thank you!” 

The waiter then came and asked them what they wanted to order. Nathan snapped at him saying they hadn’t even gotten their menus and the waiter hurriedly left to go fetch them. Hannah’s brows creased to a frown. “That was rude,” she said, and he was suddenly reminded of Warren.

His instinct was to snap right back at her the same way he did with Warren, but this wasn’t just a friendly meal at a diner. Nathan had a mission he had to go through. With that in mind, he released the breath he had been holding, and counted to three in his mind to calm himself. “Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just that I’ve had a bad week and I’m nervous.”

She softened at that and reached her hand across the table to hold his. It surprised him, but he managed not to flinch away. “I know, me too. Just relax. Everything’s going to be okay.”

The waiter returned then with their menus and Nathan distracted himself with it. Hannah occasionally commented on it and made a joke about a bizarre-sounding dish. Nathan’s fake laugh was better than his real one, so he released a chuckle here and there. While she talked he thought about Warren and how useful it would be to have time powers during the date. He was afraid he would lose his temper, as he usually did, and preferred to detach himself from the conversation than risk ruining everything.

“You know, this is my first date,” Hannah mentioned and Nathan snapped back to reality. 

“Really?” He asked, pretending to be curious.

“When you have two overprotective older brothers you don’t get to go out with boys very often.”

“You have two older brothers?” Nathan felt it was safe to ask since he didn’t read it in the chat logs.

“One of them’s older than me by a few minutes but he thinks he can boss me around. I told them I was staying at a friend’s house. If I told them I was going out to meet someone from a dating website, they’d kill me.”

 _And me,_ Nathan thought and was glad for the anonymity. 

“I did show them your photography though, I hope you don’t mind,” she added.

 _My what?_ Hannah pulled out her phone and showed him which ones she had presented and Nathan was surprised to find out it actually _was_ his photography. “I really love it. I have this one set as my phone background.” 

Nathan was actually, deeply flattered. Though he wanted to be a photographer more than anything, he didn’t have anyone he could show his photography to. Yes, he went to an art school, but most people hated him and Nathan had always been terrified that the hatred would transfer to his work. Only Victoria and Jefferson ever showed appreciation for it.

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” He asked self-consciously.

“Yes, but that’s part of why I like it,” she said and showed him the one he had taken on Wednesday. The one of the dead sparrow. “Look at this. It’s like you can find beauty in anything. That’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” he said, speechless. After that, the waiter came and asked what they wanted to order. 

The date went pretty well. They talked about a lot of things and Nathan actually enjoyed Hannah’s company. It was awkward at times—as first dates usually tend to be—but they had a good time. Nathan talked with her honestly about his dreams and his photography, and Hannah was very supportive. Her dreams were more humble, open a small bed and breakfast out in the country. She wanted to help people, and Nathan admired that.

Eventually they left the restaurant and walked through the streets of Portland. She slipped on a light beige coat to protect herself from the October chill. Nathan hadn’t brought his jacket, and he shivered slightly against the cold. Hannah noticed and boldly wrapped her slender fingers around his arm and leaned her body against his. Nathan felt warmer. They talked as they walked—about the weather, themselves, each other—but they mostly strolled in comfortable silence. 

They stopped at a park. There were more leaves on the ground than there were on the trees, and though the lamp posts gave them plenty of visibility it was mostly dark. They sat at some brick steps instead of the benches and Hannah laid her head on Nathan’s shoulder. 

“This is nice,” she hummed.

“It is,” Nathan said honestly.

“That reminds me,” she lifted her head from his shoulder. She dug around in her bag and told him to close his eyes. Nathan did, reluctantly. He felt something warm and soft being wrapped around his neck and he brought up his fingers to feel it. “Open them,” Hannah said and he did.

It was a scarf. Blue and handmade. The corner of Hannah’s lips quirked in a shy smile and she said, “I made it myself.”

Nathan was struck speechless again by her kindness. He kept touching the fabric between his fingers. It wasn’t expertly made, but he could feel the love that went into every thread. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” she said softly. She flicked her gaze to his lips for the briefest second. Nathan wanted to close the distance between them and press them against hers. He leaned towards her slowly and her lashes fluttered close. He wanted to taste her soft, bow-shaped lips. To feel them press chastely against his. To take in her innocence and purity.

_Innocence and purity._

With a sharp gasp he pulled back, his heart accelerated. Hannah opened her eyes, her brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong, Daniel?” She asked, and with that one name everything came crashing down.

It was as if all of his happiness had evaporated. The illusion was gone. He wasn’t actually on a date, not as Nathan Prescott. Hannah didn’t know him at all. She only knew Daniel and the fake personality fabricated by Mark fucking Jefferson. 

His heart sank, but he wasn’t going to grieve over this. This wasn’t his first time taking a girl into the Dark Room and it wasn’t going to be the last. He was a professional for Christ’s sake. No, he didn’t want to take her to the Dark Room. To see her innocence stripped away as he had seen the others. But he couldn’t back out either, so he did the only thing he could—he shut down his emotions.

“Do you wanna go somewhere fun?” He asked her, all shyness and longing gone. Replaced by cold confidence.

“Uh, sure,” Hannah asked, confused at the sudden shift. “Where to?”

“I know this great place.” 

 

He followed Jefferson’s instructions to the letter and took Hannah to what was, quite possibly, the seediest bar in all of Portland. She was apprehensive about going in at first, but Nathan gave her a reassuring smile and she trusted it. She felt safe around him and he used that to his advantage. Nobody bothered to card them when he asked for drinks. Nathan and Hannah sat at the bar, waiting.

“Have you ever drank before, Hannah?” He asked.

“I haven’t,” she said, looking nervous.

“Then you’re going to love this,” he said and the bartender brought them their drinks. His was sweet, with minimal alcohol, while hers was stronger. Her face scrunched up when she took a sip.

“That’s awful.”

“You get used to it. Try not to let it pass through your tongue.”

When they finished their drinks, he asked for another. They talked normally, though Hannah was visibly nervous and getting drunker. After a while she excused herself to go to the bathroom, wobbling slightly. That was when Nathan knew he had his chance. He made sure no one was looking at him when he slipped the already-crushed rohypnol pill in her drink.

She returned and Nathan asked if she was alright. She said that her head felt light and a bit unbalanced. Nathan promised that they would go after she finished her drink. It took a few minutes for the drug to take its effect, but it did. Hannah’s pupils were dilated, more black than brown at that point. “I don’t feel well,” she said, her voice completely slurred.

“What’s wrong?” Nathan asked.

“I’m kind of… slow. Everything feels weird,” she said, swaying in her seat.

“You’re probably drunk,” he said, and grabbed her shoulder to balance her.

“Maybe.”

“Come on,” he stood up and pulled her up with him. He wordlessly signaled the bartender for some water. He gave her the glass and she drank. “Get some water in you. It’ll help you flush it out.”

“Thanks, Daniel. I ‘preciate it.”

“Where are you staying?” He led her out of the bar.

“Some motel. I can’t remember the name. It’s a train ride away,” she stumbled a bit but Nathan caught her.

“It’s okay. You just have to sleep it off. You’ll be fine.” They walked to his car and he opened the door. She had a glassy look in her eyes.

“I thought… You said… You told me you didn’t… have a car.” Nathan helped her lay down in the backseat.

“Don’t worry,” he grabbed a green blanket and covered her with it from head to toe. “You won’t remember it in the morning.”

ooo

Arcadia Bay was an hour and a half drive away, but Nathan figured he could make it there sooner if he hit the pedal. Hannah hadn’t moved in the backseat, but occasionally whimpered whenever he hit a bump. He was almost at the barn when he saw red and blue lights flashing in his rear view mirror. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, then repeated it over and over his head while he weighed over his options. Not that he had any. This pig would follow him all the way to the barn and get pissy at him for not pulling over. The only thing he could do was pull over and pray he wouldn't look in the back seat. 

And so Nathan pulled over, his heart beating in his eardrums, and waited. The cop tapped at his glass and he rolled in down. 

“Any reason you're out here speeding like a bat through hell this late at night?” 

Officer Berry. Just his fucking luck. 

“Do I have to have a reason?” Nathan retorted. 

“Yes, actually,” He said, crossing his arms. “Where are you going?”

“A studio.”

“It’s ten thirty.”

“Yeah, so?”

Berry looked skeptical, but couldn't refute it. He flashed his flashlight over the back window and Nathan squeezed his hands on the steering wheel to keep himself from panicking. 

“What's at the back?” Berry asked. His flashlight shined over Hannah’s covered body.

“Camera equipment,” Nathan lied. 

After what felt like an eternity, Berry turned off the flashlight. Nathan’s shoulders sagged in relief. 

“I’d drive more carefully, if I were you. There's a fire up ahead so there are a lot of patrols around the area to keep people away.”

“A fire?”

“There was a lightning storm a few hours ago. One of them hit a tree over by the forest and it caught. It’s right on the edge of town so nobody got hurt, but they’re still trying to put it out.”

“Thanks for the tip. Can I go now?”

Berry sighed. “I’m going to let you off with a warning, as usual, but I can’t keep covering you forever. Your father won’t be happy to hear about this.”

Nathan scowled. Of _course_ this pig was going to run to his dad. Nathan wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. “Can I convince you not to tell him?”

“Not a chance.” Nathan groaned. Berry tsked. “And for Christ’s sake put a seatbelt on, kid. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

He walked back to his car and Nathan stuck out his hand to flip him off.

ooo

Jefferson was already waiting for him outside when he arrived. 

“What took you so long?” He asked as he opened the backseat.

“Got pulled over,” said Nathan.

“And?” Jefferson asked, unconcerned.

“I wouldn’t be here if there was an ‘and’ to that.” 

Jefferson uncovered the blanket and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw Hannah. “She’s beautiful.” He ran his index finger down the curvature of her cheek. Hannah’s glazed eyes stared past him. 

They put her upright and Jefferson’s quiet voice coaxed her out of the car. She could barely stand. He slung her arm around his shoulder and she stumbled her way into the Dark Room.

Everything was ready. The cameras, the lights, the drugs. Nathan followed silently behind as Jefferson set her down on the floor. She whimpered at the cold and Jefferson shushed her, caressing her cheek. “It’s okay. Stop squirming, we haven’t even started yet,” he said, a mixture of affection and a threat.

“How was she?” Jefferson asked as he began posing her.

“I think I understand what you mean now,” Nathan grabbed his camera and changed the settings. “About innocence and shit.”

“Do you?” Hannah moved her leg and Jefferson put it back in place with a harsh tug.

“That stuff you said about rebellion.” _If I told them I was going out to meet someone from a dating website, they’d kill me._ “And the whole lust thing.” _She flicked her gaze to his lips for the briefest second._

“She really is perfect, isn’t she?” Jefferson moved her hair from her face.

“Yeah,” Jefferson stepped back to look at the composition. Nathan took the first shot. “She is.”

Jefferson took his camera and knelt down in front of her. The only sounds in the Dark Room were the clicking of their cameras and Hannah’s soft breathing. After a few shots, Jefferson looked at his camera and said, “Something’s wrong. They’re not coming out how I want them to.”

Hannah shifted her body and he forcefully pulled her back. “Stay still!” He said sharply. “Don’t you dare fucking move until I figure out how to fix this!”

“Can I try something?”

Jefferson didn’t say anything just did an exasperated _go for it_ gesture. A few minutes later after Nathan moved the lighting stands around and adjusted a few of the softboxes, he stepped back to look at his handiwork. The lighting was softer around her cheeks, making them seem smoother. The background was darker, giving more emphasis to the subject. The light made an outline around her face and the bright whites of her eyes. It glowed like a halo behind her hair. 

Nathan looked to Jefferson once he was satisfied. “Well?”

“That’s perfect, Nathan. Absolutely perfect. You have a gift,” Jefferson knelt down and began took a shot. He looked it over in the screen and breathed deep. “It’s beautiful.”

A warm feeling blossomed in Nathan’s chest. However, it was immediately quashed as Hannah’s eyes regained a bit of focus and stared straight at him. She didn’t say anything. She was probably too weak to say anything, but Nathan saw the confusion and fear in her eyes. He took a shot.

“Look at that face,” he heard Jefferson say, but he wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “I knew you were worth it from the moment I saw you.” 

Hannah released a soft whine and tried to move her head away from the lights, but Jefferson grabbed her by the chin jerked it back. “I said don’t move! Didn’t your parents teach you not to talk to strangers on the Internet? You’re beautiful but you’re so, so dumb. Let me try this angle.” Jefferson stood with his legs at either side of her and crouched down to get a closer shot. “Oh, that’s exquisite. Word of advice: If a stranger says their webcam is broken, chances are they’re lying to you.”

Nathan laid on his stomach to get a better shot at her face. Her eyes pooled with tears. 

“Get the duct tape,” said Jefferson and Nathan obeyed. He wordlessly grabbed her wrists, as he had done so many times before, and tied them together, squeezing tightly whenever she tried to jerk them away.

“Please…” She whispered, and Jefferson took a shot.

“Her legs?” Nathan asked, already unrolling the tape.

“Not yet,” Jefferson folded her legs upright and knelt between them. He took another shot. “Come here. Look at this angle.”

He moved and Nathan took his place. Hannah’s eyes never left Nathan, following him to his spot between her legs. There was a quiet plea in them. Nathan didn’t feel comfortable about it, any of it, but he suppressed the feeling. He got even closer, his chest resting on her navel and his elbows at either side of her, before he took the shot.

“Let me look at that,” Jefferson said and Nathan handed him his camera. Jefferson sighed. “I don’t think you understand yet. This is too sexual,” he said, in that disappointed tone that Nathan loathed.

“What’s the difference between that and yours?” He snapped.

“At this angle her breasts are the highlight. You can barely see her face.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe if you started listening to me and stopped jerking off to the subjects you would,” Jefferson’s words cut through Nathan. 

“Fuck you, I’m fucking trying, okay?”

“Throwing a few subjects around, taking pictures, and calling it ‘art’ doesn’t mean it’s worth anything.” Jefferson carelessly threw the camera back to Nathan.

Nathan caught it and gripped it so hard it almost broke. “Eat a dick, Mark! You wouldn’t even be doing this if it wasn’t for me covering all our expenses and picking up all of our models and bringing in all of our drugs! You don’t get to talk to me like that!”

Jefferson stepped towards Nathan in a manner that reminded him of his father. He almost thought he was going to hit him. “Don’t overestimate yourself. I have been doing this long before you and I will continue doing it long after you. This isn’t a hobby, this is a business. A very lucrative business that I have decided to share with you. I’m not going to risk you fucking everything up with your teen rage. Go cool off before I regret that decision.”

Nathan never wanted to bash in Jefferson’s face more than at that moment. If he hadn’t taken his medicine earlier, he probably would have. As it was, he grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and walked out of the barn with the camera still in hand. 

He paced around the barn, going through everything over and over again. The first time he met Jefferson. The second. The third. Everything up to that point. It wasn’t always like this. Jefferson was patient with him, understanding, even caring. He used to say he was so proud of him. The son he never had. Everything changed so goddamn much since Rachel disappeared. 

Something clicked in his brain.

_Since Rachel disappeared._

He never made the connection between Rachel’s disappearance and Jefferson’s behavior towards him until now. After he looked through her phone and learned that he was the last person to have seen her. That she was in the Dark Room. 

Nathan remembered what Jefferson said to him under the bleachers. _Of course we both know that’s not possible, so try to keep an ear out._ What did that _mean?_ A million questions buzzed in Nathan’s head and the only person that could answer him was only a staircase away. But if Jefferson could answer them it meant he was the reason for Rachel’s disappearance. Nathan didn’t know if he could handle that, so he stopped thinking about it.

He returned to the Dark Room when he realized he could see his own breath in the air. Jefferson had actually been waiting for him, and Nathan would have been deeply moved if his brain hadn’t reached the conclusion about him earlier. 

“It’s almost time for her next dose,” Jefferson knew not to bring up Nathan’s outburst and he was grateful for it. 

“Can I do it?” Nathan asked.

Jefferson pursed his lips and looked down at the model. She was crying freely now and her body was shaking. “Sure,” he said, looking back at Nathan. “But be careful this time.”

 _This time?_ “When am I not?” Nathan asked and Jefferson had a strange look on his face that he didn’t like nor understand. He ignored it and focused on getting the dosage correct. 

When he was certain he got it right, he walked over to Hannah and knelt down next to her. She started shaking her head and trying to get away from him. Nathan could hear her quietly breathe _no, no, no, no_ over and over again. He grabbed her by the back of her head and said, “Stop struggling or this could hurt.” Then, he injected her jugular. He waited a few seconds until he felt her go limp.

“Good job, Nathan,” he heard Jefferson behind him.

For once, the praise didn’t make him feel better.

ooo

The photoshoot lasted hours, as they all did. Whenever she regained consciousness, they would put her under again with a new dose. The drug was weak enough so it wouldn’t last more than an hour, since Jefferson liked that “gray area where she half-realizes what’s happened to her and she becomes fearful”. Then, they would dose her again, and the cycle would start anew. 

But then came Jefferson’s absolute favorite part. 

The drug they had dosed her previously had put her to sleep. When she woke up, she would be clear-headed and aware. She would also have no memory of anything that happened in the past few hours. Jefferson gave a lecture on purity and corruption and ‘blacks and whites and grays’, but Nathan had only been half listening. Hannah was leaned up against the wall, her hands and feet bound together, her head lolled to the side in a fitful sleep.

When she woke up, Nathan and Jefferson were ready. 

It took a few seconds. She blinked and squinted her eyes at the harsh light. Jefferson took a shot and she flinched.

“Sleep well?” He asked.

She tried moving her hands, and when she realized she couldn’t her eyes shot open. They flicked around wildly, seeing the cameras, the lights, the room. Then, they settled on Jefferson. “Who are you? Where… What’s happening?” 

“You’re in my studio,” said Jefferson, his default answer for that question. “And you’re my subject.”

Then, her eyes met Nathan and he saw relief in them. But it was only for a second, until her brain caught up and she realized what must have happened. Relief turned to betrayal which turned to fear. Jefferson captured every moment. “Daniel?” 

“My name’s not Daniel,” he said coldly. 

“I’m Daniel,” said Jefferson, taking a shot. “But that’s also not my name.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“These last few months were touching, weren’t they?”

“No…” Realization led Hannah from fear to sadness and rage. Tears slid down her cheeks and she gritted her teeth. Nathan captured it. “You—You asshole! I trusted you!” 

“Consider this a valuable lesson, then,” Jefferson said, unfazed. “One you won’t remember. Don’t talk to strangers on the Internet.”

She bowed her head and began sobbing loudly. Her shoulders shook whenever she heard the click of a camera, and she tried to hide her face behind her bound hands. Jefferson was annoyed and grabbed her chin, pulling her head up. “The sooner you become more compliant, the faster this is over for you, you stupid cunt.”

He let go of her and she forced herself to look directly into his camera. “Oh, that’s a good shot,” he said. 

She looked at Nathan, who hadn’t spoken, and said. “I thought we had something.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper.

“We didn’t,” Nathan lied.

ooo

It was a little past two in the morning when they finished. Hannah lay unconscious on the couch, her hands and feet unbound. Jefferson spoke as they put all the equipment away, but Nathan couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel. Rachel had visited the Dark Room before, many times. But never as an unwilling subject. She had posed for them, consciously, and she had loved it. So her being in the Dark Room wasn’t all that weird. 

He looked over to where the binders were. Rachel didn’t have a binder. She kept her own professional portfolio, and she was always lucid in her pictures, often smiling. It didn’t fit with the theme, so they never had a binder for her.

“I’ll drive her back to Portland while you finish up, okay?” Jefferson spoke up and Nathan snapped out of his reverie.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Whatever.”

“I’ll come by after to develop the shots and see how they turned out.” Jefferson picked up Hannah and carried her over his shoulder. She was light, so it didn’t take much. When she was secured, he turned to address Nathan. “Good work today, Nathan. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He was only saying that because of earlier. Nathan ignored him. Jefferson and Hannah left.

 

When Nathan finished putting the rest of the equipment away he dropped himself on the couch and took the half-finished bottle of scotch from the table. He swished it around for no reason other than to admire the golden color, before bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long gulp. It burned like nothing else, but whatever, he didn’t give a fuck.

He tried to quiet his thoughts but it wouldn’t work, not until the alcohol passed through his liver and left him unable to think. What the fuck happened to Rachel? Her parents closed the investigation, said they had evidence that she left by herself. Jefferson telling him he got a call from Rachel, which pinpointed him as the last person to have seen her. _Of course, we both know that’s impossible,_ he had said. But why?

Jefferson wouldn’t hurt Rachel. Nathan could be looking at it all wrong. Maybe she had gone to the Dark Room and her disappearance took place after she left. It was wishful thinking, but Nathan held on to it. He didn’t know what he would do if Jefferson did hurt her. 

If only there was a way he could find out what happened, just so he could prove he had nothing to worry about. He took another swig, hoping the effects would settle in soon, when he spotted it. A small, black security camera on the corner of the Dark Room. _The security system, of course,_ Nathan thought, then jumped out of his seat. It was one of the first things Jefferson asked for. 24/7 around the clock security cameras. The best there was. 

Nathan knew, for a fact, that Jefferson kept all recordings of their meetings in the room and checked them periodically. He was almost worse than David in that regard. Nathan went over to the computer and checked where the DVR stored all the recordings. His shoulders sagged when he learned he had deleted them up until this week’s, probably to make space for more. 

But Jefferson always liked having a physical copy for everything.

Fastidious as he was, he would never delete security footage. He was proud of his work and liked having it recorded, like some kind of psychopath from a Lecter movie. He didn’t have to look for long before he found it.

A small cabinet had archived every single recording for the past year. It was divided by days. The alcohol was beginning to settle in Nathan’s stomach, so he tried to find it quick before he got too drunk to have any coherent thoughts. He ran his fingers through the labels of the days and followed the path with his eyes. April. April 17, April 18, April 19, April 20, April 21, April 23…

He went back. April 21, April 23.

It was missing.

April 22 was _missing._

Nathan frantically read over the others, trying to find it. When it didn’t work he took them out of the cabinet, maybe it was hidden somewhere, maybe it was an error, or maybe—

But it was no use. April 22 was gone. Jefferson had hidden it, or destroyed it. And there was a fucking reason for it. Not wanting to wait for the alcohol to take its full effect, Nathan took the bottle again and tried chugging the rest of it down. He choked when his throat couldn’t take it anymore, and for a while just sat in the floor trying to catch his breath. 

When his breath evened, he put the recordings back where they were, not wanting Jefferson to suspect he was snooping around. Then, he left the room, already sick of its white sterile walls. The cold air hit him like a force, and he shivered, but otherwise didn’t give a fuck. He staggered all the way to the back of the barn and sat on a soft-looking patch of dirt. His head was leaned against the wall, his arms were resting on his knees. 

He thought about Warren, about his powers. He wondered what it would be like to have been bestowed such a gift. If he could just go back in time and undo everything. Everything he’d done, everything he’d been forced to do, everything that had ever happened to him, _everything._

But Warren was good. He actually cared about people and wasn’t an asshole. He used his powers to save his _life._ He saved him when he was being such a dick. After everything, he wanted to be his friend. Nathan realized Warren was one of the few good things he had in his life, then sighed at how pathetic that was. 

Warren trusted him with his secret. Nathan had seen enough movies to know that superpowers were a big deal. He wished he could trust Warren with his secrets. He wished he could tell Warren about Jefferson, Rachel, and the Dark Room. He wished he wasn’t so alone.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t know the guy. He let himself get lost in the fantasy of having someone he could bare himself to and trust not to leave him. But reality’s more fucking complicated than that. Still. He was fucking drunk, sitting at the back of an empty barn, nursing the last few drops of scotch left. Fuck reality. If he wanted to forget about everything for two goddamned seconds, he would. 

Nathan chugged down the last of the liquor and threw the bottle to the side. Through his half-lidded eyes he scanned the horizon. There was a red glow, over by the mountaintops. The fire Officer Berry was talking about. A pillar of black smoke covered the sky and he yearned for a cigarette. 

Hannah’s scarf was still wound around his neck. His fingers reached up to stroke the soft cotton. She cared about him. She never cared about him. He didn’t know which was the truth anymore. He unlooped the scarf from his neck and threw it to a patch of dirt, next to the bottle of scotch. He wished he could throw it to the fire, just forget about everything. But he couldn’t. Hannah would forget, but he didn’t have that kind of blessing.

If he tried, he could feel the warmth of the fire over the distance. He wished the lightning had struck the barn instead. He wished he had been inside the barn. He wished he could die with it. Nathan leaned his head back, breathed deep, and watched the world burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want, you can see the restaurant Nathan and Hannah went to [here!](https://www.google.com.pr/maps/@45.5140354,-122.6754687,3a,75y,136.98h,78.94t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sgIaUh5qkAimMKDvs6Uzbew!2e0!3e2!7i13312!8i6656!6m1!1e1?hl=en) (If you go outside you will see Jefferson Station to your left; I absolutely lost it when I first saw it.)
> 
> Also, [I drew all of Nathan's different outfits in the fic,](http://gunophilia.tumblr.com/post/142210052895/nobody-asked-for-it-but-here-you-go-all-of) in case anyone's interested. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, your kind comments mean a lot to me!


	10. Hazard Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some happy Nathan because God knows I need it.

_October 13_

Faint 8-bit music echoed distantly inside Warren’s dream, waking him up. He opened one bleary eye. The first thing that caught his eye was the time. 3:38am. Who would be calling him at fucking three in the morning? His hand reached under his pillow to grab his phone, and he shifted his body so that he was laying on his back. There was no caller ID. He thought about letting it ring, turning the phone off, and returning to his peaceful sleep, but curiosity got the better of him. 

“Hello?” 

“Good, you’re up,” he recognized Nathan’s voice. He sounded exhausted.

“Dude it’s like three in the morning, what’s up?” Warren asked, more tired than interested.

“I need you to pick me up.” Nathan’s voice was staticky and it jumped at random intervals. Bad signal.

“Whuh? You’re not at the dorm?”

“No, I’m at some old barn on the edge of town. Can’t drive.”

“What are you doing all the way out there? Did you get kidnapped?” Warren asked drowsily, then his eyes snapped open and he asked more seriously, _“Did you get kidnapped?”_

“No, you jackass. Goddamn, you’re an idiot.” That was when Waren noticed the slight slur in his tone that he previously mistook for exhaustion.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Wow, what a fucking genius. Someone give this guy a fuckin’ nobel prize.”

“If you’re just going to be rude about it…”

“Fine, I’ll just drive there myself.”

Warren sighed deeply and sat up. He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his cheek while he put on his sneakers. “Where did you say you were again?”

ooo

It was a long drive. Nathan’s inebriated instructions could only get him so far. If it wasn’t for Nathan’s bright red truck being parked outside, he would have never found the place. 

The barn was decrepit and eerie. The words CONDEMNED flashed through Warren’s head. Nathan was there? All night? Drunk? It was a miracle the building hadn’t collapsed on him. He parked next to Nathan’s car. His sneakers made a crunching sound against the near-frozen ground. Warren wished he had changed out of his pajamas.

There was no lighting around the area, except for the moonlight. Warren had to use the flashlight on his phone to get around. He pointed it almost exclusively at his feet, so he wouldn’t trip on the random junk that littered around. There were fresh car tracks leading to the inside of the barn, so he guessed Nathan hadn’t been the only one here.

“Nathan?” He called out. No response. “Nathan, are you there?” Against his better judgement, he stepped inside the barn. It was just as cold as the outside, unsurprisingly. Warren’s breath ghosted in front of him. The holes in the ceiling allowed for some light, otherwise, it was near pitch-black. A rat scurried in front of the flashlight’s path and Warren jumped. This place was _creepy._

“Come on, where are you?” He called out again. His voice didn’t echo. The only sounds inside the barn were the hum of insects and his unbelievably loud footsteps.

The building and everything inside it seemed so old. Chests and cabinets long chewed over by mice and other critters were strewn in all corners. _Why_ was Nathan here? Warren tried calling Nathan’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He couldn’t call the other number, because it was registered as ‘Unknown’. He shined his flashlight around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his familiar red jacket or a tuft of blond hair.

 _“Nathan!”_ He whispered this time, for no apparent reason. _“Nathan, where are you?”_

A torn down letter caught Warren’s eye. He picked up the yellowed paper gently. A threat written in beautiful script and colorful words graced the page. It was signed by a Martin Lewis Prescott. 

_So this barn must be Nathan’s,_ Warren thought, _or rather, his family’s._ It was kind of cool to have a piece of your family history from all the way back in 1903. Warren didn’t even know who his great-grandfather was. It didn’t make the barn any less eerie, though. There was a chest nearby, filled to the brim with newspapers and binders. It was all about the Prescotts’ legacy. About how they slowly came by owning the town. Donations, new businesses, how they capitalized on the Cold War by building bomb shelters… It was actually pretty fucking cool, if somewhat intimidating. 

He kept looking around, catching his breath whenever an animal scurried and made a noise. Warren couldn’t help but think how this was a perfect setup for a horror movie. A young guy looking around for his friend, jumpscares every time the wind moved something. Warren got goosebumps just thinking about it. He could almost picture the masked serial killer coming up behind him, raising his axe, and—

“What the fuck are you doing?"

Warren’s scream was a loud, girly sound carried through the barn. He dropped his phone, which landed at the base of Nathan’s feet. The flashlight pointed upwards and gave Nathan’s body terrifying shadows. Warren hadn’t stop screaming. 

“Warren, dude, _Warren!”_ Nathan bent down to recover the phone, stumbling a bit, and light it on his face. “It’s me, shut the fuck up!”

Warren’s scream ended abruptly, heavy breathing taking its place. “Why do people always sneak up on me!” 

“I could say the same thing about you, jerkwad.” Nathan handed the phone back to Warren. It got a scratch. _Great._

He would mourn his phone later. “What is this place?” Warren asked, shining the light around.

“Family’s first business. My dad kept it all these years. Some bullshit about ‘keeping to your roots’. Doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid building,” Nathan said.

Warren could smell the alcohol on him. It was on his clothes, his hair, his breath. He had no idea how the dude could keep his composure when he was thoroughly drunk. “Why are you here?”

“I come here sometimes."

“I guess it’s pretty cool. Not somewhere I would go to party, however.”

“I hate it,” Nathan said it quietly, like he hadn’t meant for Warren to hear, so he decided not to comment on that. 

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Warren said, leading to the car. Nathan didn’t follow him, only swayed in place. Too drunk to walk? So much for composure. “You need help or…?”

“Yes, no, maybe, _no.”_ Nathan took half a step and stopped, arms outstretched, like he was trying very hard to retain balance. Warren took that as a yes and offered his shoulder to Nathan. 

Nathan raised his nose at it, made a grumbled comment about _‘walking his damned self’,_ and took another step. He lost his balance almost immediately and Warren instinctively caught him before he fell. Nathan looked utterly displeased at the development. Warren hooked his arm around his shoulder. Nathan complained, but didn’t resist. 

“You’re a mess,” Warren laughed. 

“Say that to my face, bitch,” Nathan slurred. 

“You’re a mess,” he repeated. 

Nathan cursed at him all the way to the car. 

ooo

They had been silent throughout most of the car ride. Warren commented on a sleek black sedan that had driven past them, and how it weird it was that they weren’t the only ones driving out so far. Nathan hadn’t said anything. 

The silence stretched on almost painfully, and Warren kept wringing his hands on the steering wheel anxiously. It wasn’t like it was rare for Nathan to give him the silent treatment, but Warren thought they had moved past that. Plus, he had about a million questions buzzing in his head. Nathan couldn’t just sit in his car and pretend nothing happened. Warren was _concerned._

After taking a few minutes to steel himself, he broke the silence at the first red light. 

“Why did you call me?”

Nathan—who wasn’t ignoring him and had in fact fallen asleep, Warren realized now—was startled awake. “What?” 

Warren's face heated up slightly. “Oh, shit, you were sleeping? Sorry about that.”

“What did you say?” Nathan rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. 

Warren felt bad about asking, but figured he already woke Nathan so to hell with it. “Uh, why did you call _me_ of all people? Like, I get that we’re friends, but I’d think you’d call Victoria or your dad or someone from the Vortex Club before me.”

Nathan scoffed ruefully. “I’m not calling my dad to pick up his drunken disappointment in the middle of nowhere,” the way he said it, so casually, made Warren’s heart ache. 

“You’re not…” Warren started, but he had a feeling Nathan’s opinion of himself wasn’t going to be swayed right now. He let the sentence trail off unfinished. With a deep breath he started again. “O _kay,_ what about Victoria?”

“I would have just worried her,” Nathan said.

“Dude, _I’m_ worried.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.” 

“Getting drunk in the middle of the night and crashing in an abandoned barn isn’t my definition of ‘fine’.”

“You didn’t _have_ to pick me up.”

“Bullshit I didn’t have to.”

“It’s not too late.”

Warren's brows knit together in confusion and frustration. “What?”

“You can drop me off here and just forget about everything. I won’t tell anyone about your powers,” He raised his pinky. “I promised.”

A curious mixture of pain and anger flared in Warren’s chest and constricted his heart. How could Nathan think like this? 

“This wasn’t just about the powers, Nathan,” Warren made a bold move and grabbed Nathan’s pinky, “I don’t turn back on my friends just because they have issues. You’re my friend and you need me, so like it or not I’m there for you.”

 _“Why?”_ Nathan wrenched his finger away. “We’ve been friends for a _day_ and I’ve only been a dick to you. Why do you _care?”_

Warren returned his eyes to the road as the light switched green. “That’s just how I am.”

Nathan took a shaky breath and sank back in his seat. He propped his feet up on the dashboard, but Warren didn’t care. They rode like that for a while. Warren not saying anything, and Nathan being too stubborn to. He almost let the rest of the ride be like that, but Warren hated the silence.

“What about your car?” He asked instead.

At first he didn’t think Nathan was going to answer him, but then he clicked his tongue with his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, shit. Guess I’m gonna have to ride the bus for a while.”

Warren gasped. “Nathan Prescott, riding public transportation?” He mocked with an exaggerated voice. 

“Yeah? What’s it to you?”

He placed his hand over his chest. “Forgive me, I had no idea the rulers of our fine town were so humble as to ride on the bus with the _peasants.”_

Warren’s theatrics finally got a snort out of Nathan. “You’re so fucking dumb.”

“I try,” Warren grinned and Nathan rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. It made Warren feel good. “Anyway, if you want, I can take you to get your car back tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

Nathan didn’t answer right away, only pursed his lips, like he was thinking it through. Like he had to think a favor through. Then, after a while, he said, “Okay.”

ooo

Nathan insisted that he didn’t need help walking back to the dorms, but Warren insisted that he _did._ If anyone dared to look out their windows, they would think they were hallucinating or dreaming. The head of the Vortex Club, practically dragging his feet, leaning on Blackwell’s most unpopular nerd. Warren wondered if _he_ was dreaming. If this entire week was just a fever dream induced by a coma or something. Maybe he was in a coma. A week ago, no, _three days ago,_ he couldn’t have even imagined doing something like this. 

They sneaked past the better part of security and into the darkened dorm hallway. As quiet as they tried to be, their shoes squeaked under the linoleum floor. They stopped outside Nathan’s door, and Nathan fumbled with his jacket and pockets before hissing, _“Shit!”_

 _“What?”_ Warren whispered.

 _“I left my keys at the barn. And my wallet. Great.”_

_“You don’t have a spare?”_

_“Do I look like I have a spare fucking key?_ ”

Okay, plan B. There had to be another way into Nathan’s room. They could break in somehow. _“Follow me, I have an idea,”_ said Warren, opening his own, unlocked door. Nathan looked at him skeptically, but followed.

Warren’s room was a mess, but he wasn’t all that embarrassed. What teenager’s room wasn’t? He didn’t look back to see Nathan take in the room; instead, he made a beeline straight to his bed. He reached under it and pulled out the suitcase, then turned around to see Nathan’s raised eyebrow. 

Warren took a deep breath and said, “What you are about to see may be disturbing to some viewers.”

Nathan crossed his arms. “Exactly what are we here for again?”

“I have some things here that might help us get into your room,” Warren said, sitting on his bed and opening the suitcase. 

Nathan moved to sit next to him, but Warren slammed the suitcase shut before he could get a good look at what’s inside. He scowled. “What gives?”

“Second to my powers, this is my biggest secret. You can’t tell anyone.”

Nathan did an exaggerated groan and said, “I swear not to tell anyone.”

“Not Victoria, not the Vortex Club, not—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the list, can we just get to the point?” Nathan interrupted.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Warren opened the case. 

“Okay, so. I have a few ideas on how we could get into your room. Two, actually.”

“What is all this?” Nathan asked, looking over the contents of the suitcase.

“I’m glad you asked,” said Warren. He started taking out his arsenal one by one. “These are firecrackers, this is itch powder, this is just food coloring…”

“What’s this?” Nathan said, taking out a vial of clear liquid and moving to open it. 

Warren stopped him. “That’s sulfuric acid. Don’t open it. If it gets on you, it won’t be pretty.”

Nathan immediately set it down. He pulled out a small bag and shook the contents inside. “And this?”

“That’s arsenic.”

Nathan went slack-jawed for a moment. “Why do you have _poison_ in your dorm?” 

Warren didn’t really have an answer for that, so he just shrugged. It was science and he _loved_ anything that involved science. Especially if it was dangerous or deadly. Ms. Grant would have a heart attack if she found out. 

“This?” Nathan said, inspecting a clear jar.

“That’s anthrax.”

Nathan almost dropped it in alarm and Warren started laughing. “Just kidding, dude, it’s empty.”

“You piece of shit!” Nathan said, shoving Warren, but there was a laugh underneath the insult. “Anyway, what’s your plan, genius?” 

“Okay, the first idea is this,” he took out his trusty lockpicking kit, “just pick our way into your room. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

“And the second idea?”

“The second idea, well…” He took out a smaller suitcase from under his bed and opened it. “It involves my time powers.”

Nathan’s brows creased into a wary frown. “Go on?”

“It’s a little bit more exciting than the lockpick and a _lot_ more dangerous,” he gave the suitcase to Nathan, who opened it. 

“What is this?” He asked.

“It’s a pipe bomb.”

“You wanna blow up my door?” Nathan sounded more impressed than pissed.

“Yes.”

Nathan stared at him intently for a few seconds, before agreeing. “Let’s do it.”

ooo

An explosion rippled across the hallway as the bomb set off and blew Nathan’s door wide open. The smell of fire and smoke quickly filled the dorms. It triggered the emergency sprinkler system and soon Warren and Nathan were completely drenched, as well as the entirety of the hallway. Warren was whooping and Nathan was cackling the same way the Joker would if he blew up something.

“Dude, that was fucking awesome!” Warren said, pushing his wet bangs away from his face.

“Fuck yeah, that was!” Nathan cheered before placing a hand over his mouth in a self-conscious attempt to muffle his laughter. His lips were completely covered, but his nose was wrinkled and his shoulders still shook. Warren wished he could move the hand away. 

People were emerging out of the dorms in various states of alarm and undress. It was now or never. Warren turned to Nathan and said, “I better rewind before time runs out and we’ll _really_ be in trouble.”

Nathan’s laughter died gradually, with a snort. “It fuckin’ sucks that I won’t remember this.”

That got Warren thinking. There was no way Nathan would remember it, but maybe there was something else he could do. “Wait,” he said, and took out his phone, “Hold on, hold on.” Warren stood next to Nathan and aimed the camera at them.

“What are you doing?” Nathan asked.

“I wanna see if this’ll work.”

“A selfie?”

“I want to know if it’ll travel back in time with me so I can have something to show you. Say cheese!”

Nathan tried so hard to scowl, but couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. Warren threw up a peace sign and had his signature grin. The phone’s camera flashed and Warren checked the photo. The lighting was bad and the angle was awkward, but he loved it. Then, he walked into Nathan’s room and turned to face Nathan. 

“So. I guess this is goodbye.”

“What the fuck are you doing,” Nathan deadpanned.

“Giving a teary farewell to one of my closest friends,” Warren held his hand over his heart.

“You’re not going anywhere, you jackass.”

“But we are exploda-buddies. Science pals. We blew up this door _together,_ Nathan. The other Nathan I’m going to meet won't have this experience with me.”

“Oh my God. Stop.”

“You know after all this I just want to say, it was really nice blowing shit up together, and, I hope that, in the future—

“Warren! Just GO before time runs out!” 

“Gotcha,” Warren winked at him. “See ya on the flip side.” He extended his arm and rewinded.

He reversed time until the door unexploded and all the wood and smoke receded back. Still inside Nathan’s room, he took a second to fix his hair before opening the door to see a confused and dry Nathan on the other side.

“Ta-da!” Warren exclaimed, extending his arms dramatically.

“How did you—” Nathan whipped around to look behind him. “Time powers. Right.”

“Nice to see you too, Natey,” Warren said as he removed the intact pipe bomb from where they had taped it.

"Don't call me that." Nathan walked past Warren into the room and looked him up and down. “Why are you wet?”

“Turns out, if you explode something in the dorms the sprinklers will activate.”

Nathan grumbled. “Can’t believe I missed it. Time powers suck.” Nathan went to his closet and tossed a towel to Warren, who took it. 

“That reminds me,” Warren fished around for his phone, and looked through the camera roll. When he couldn’t contain his excitement when he found out the picture was still there, Nathan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Right, he wasn’t feeling the adrenaline Warren was feeling. Still, he shoved his phone under Nathan’s nose. “Look, look, see? You didn’t miss it.”

Nathan’s eyebrows shot up and he took Warren’s phone from his hands to look at the picture. “Holy shit…” He breathed.

“I know, right?” 

“That’s freaky as hell,” Nathan hadn’t stopped staring at the picture.

“Man, I wish I had recorded it,” Warren said while drying his hair. “Now _that_ would have been good.”

Nathan handed the phone back to Warren and promptly threw himself on his bed. “Fuck.”

“Can you turn the light on? I can’t see a thing.”

“Mhm,” Nathan replied and got a controller off his end table. He pointed it at the ceiling and light flickered on from a… 

“You have a _projector?”_ Warren gasped.

“Ye _p,”_ Nathan said, adding a popping sound to the _p._

“That is _so_ cool.”

With the light on, Warren finally got a good look around Nathan’s room and holy hell was he embarrassed. Remember what he said about teenager’s rooms always being messy? Scratch that, Nathan Prescott was the exception. While Warren’s room was practical, with a few tacky decorations here and there; Nathan’s room had, well, an _aesthetic_ to it. There were posters of bondage all over the walls, not that Warren wasn’t going to judge for that. And if it wasn’t bondage, it was body horror. Black and white photographs of gore and tumors decorated his room. He even had some of them framed and put under red LED lights, which, Warren had to admit, looked cool as hell. But nothing really grabbed his attention as much as…

“Are those _movies?”_

Warren walked over to the cabinet that had hundreds of DVDs and Blurays and even a VHS or two. Most of them were horror or black and white cinema and film noirs and they were _so cool._ He had no doubt a few of them were limited edition or director’s cut. He absolutely had to have a movie night with Nathan.

“Dude, you have the coolest room I’ve ever seen,” said Warren, running his fingers over the DVD covers.

“Thanks,” said Nathan. There was something off about the way Nathan said it. Warren didn’t know how he could tell, but he could.

“You okay?” He turned to look at Nathan, who was laying on his back with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Nathan didn’t look at Warren. “Yeah, I just didn’t expect that.”

“Expect what?”

“That. A compliment. I know my room’s creepy. I like it that way. Didn’t think anyone else would like it.”

“Dude, are you for reals? Of _course_ I like it! Look at this! You have _Silence of the Lambs: Special Edition!_ With over 20 minutes of additional footage! How can this not be cool?” 

Nathan smirked at that. “Open it.”

Warren did and gasped out loud. “Is that… You have his signature?!”

“I got it as a birthday present. It’s one of my favorites.”

Warren closed the DVD and fixed Nathan with a serious look. “Nathan Prescott, you are officially the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the geekiest,” Nathan replied, looking at him.

Warren placed his hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’ve been singing you praises left and right and this is how you repay me?”

“Maybe I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Are you complimenting me? Wow, you _are_ drunk.”

“Yep, so get the fuck out of my room.”

Warren set the DVD back where he found it. “I’m going, I’m going. What are we gonna do about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, with your car.”

Nathan groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. “We’ll pick it up soon as I wake up, then I’ll pay you.”

“You don’t have to pay me, dude,” said Warren, mostly out of instinct. “That’s what friends are for.”

In an instant, Warren felt the atmosphere change. He didn’t know what he said wrong, but he saw Nathan’s body stiffen and heard his breathing catch. Nathan scowled and removed his arm from his eyes. The stare he gave Warren was red and _angry._ “Fuck off. You think I _want_ to be indebted to you? I’m going to pay you so that we can call it even. That’s fucking final.”

The change in Nathan took Warren aback. “Indebted? Call it even? What are you even talking about?”

“Nobody does things without wanting something in return. Money’s all I got, so that’s what you’re getting. Stop complaining.”

 _The life of a rich kid._ Warren couldn’t help feeling sorry for Nathan. A view like that didn’t come without a backstory. “I’m not complaining, that’s just… That’s just sad, Nathan.” The words left before him could consider them and he immediately regretted them. 

Nathan had raised himself up to his elbows. Only he could square his shoulders and look weaker than he already was. His eyes, bloodshot, glared at him with an almost painful intensity. His voice was low. Dangerous. “Are you fucking pitying me?”

Warren almost rewound. Almost. But he promised Nathan he wouldn’t, and what kind of a person would he be if he betrayed that? “It’s not pity,” said Warren. He didn’t know what it was, only that he knew that whatever it was, it was hurting Nathan. If he didn’t play his cards right, he could say goodbye to his new blooming friendship. The thought scared Warren. “Look, if you want to repay me that badly, I got something better.”

Warren watched Nathan withdraw into himself and wanted to stop it before it was too late. “What?” Nathan snapped. 

“If there’s one thing I learned today is that you have awesome taste in movies,” Warren said, motioning to the cabinet.

Nathan’s body relaxed just slightly, but he was still guarded. Good sign. “And?”

“How about—for my generosity—instead of paying me, why don’t we have a movie night?”

His expression changed from wary to confused. “How is that repaying you?”

“Come on, dude. You have over a hundred movies, a kickass projector, and a surround sound system. That’s _way_ better than cash!”

All of the tension left Nathan in a long exhale. Warren hadn’t realized how fast his heart had sped up. _Crisis averted._ “You’re fucking weird,” Nathan said, but not maliciously.

Had it been anyone else, Warren might have taken it to heart. But this was Nathan, and Warren was learning that he didn’t mean anything by most of the insults that came out of his mouth. He was an asshole because that was all he knew. Warren wanted to show him that it wasn’t all the world had to offer. “Sooo?” He sing-songed. 

“Whatthefuckever.”

Warren took that as a _yes._


	11. The Philosophy of Time Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get the ball rolling, folks, we still got a long way to go! Thank you so much for your support on this adventure, and for all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks!
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I've started a new fic (also grahamscott), where Warren and Nathan switch bodies for a week and try to live as the other. (Don't fret, Exposure updates are still coming). You can check it out [here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6809377/chapters/15548635)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading!

_October 13_

_Nathan sank down on the plush velvet sofa, his feet resting on the armrest. It was late at night, the only lighting in the room was the projector and the blinking lights of the sound system. He was in the home theater in the Prescott Manor, waiting for his friend. It still felt weird to call her that. They only met two months ago and she had pushed herself into his life for no apparent reason other than she wanted to. Girls were fucking weird._

_He was startled when a mound of blankets and pillows suddenly descended on him. He fought against the tangle of fabric and when his head reemerged he saw Victoria’s now-perfect eyebrow raised up at him. “Is everything ready?” She asked, idly running her fingers through her newly shortened hair. It was going to take a while to get used to that._

_“Yeah, my parents are asleep. We can watch whatever the hell we want,” Nathan replied. Victoria smiled and went over to sit on the other side of the sofa. She waited for Nathan to move to give her space, but he didn’t._

_“Scoot over,” she tried pushing him._

_“No,” Nathan said._

_“Come onnn,” she pushed him harder raising him up, and Nathan went limp, giving her extra weight. She groaned under the strain._

_“My house my rules,” Nathan grinned, revealing his braces. “You sit on the floor.”_

_“Is that so?” A devious glint appeared in her eye and, with a heaving push, Nathan was shoved to the carpeted ground, blankets and all._

_“Agh!” Nathan complained. “That fucking hurt!” But it really didn’t. Victoria then lowered herself from the couch to sit next to him._

_“I guess we’re both sitting on the floor then,” she declared._

_“Like hell I am,” Nathan said, but otherwise didn’t make a move to get up._

ooo

Nathan woke up from the best sleep he’d had in a long time. And boy, did he wish he hadn’t. The hangover hit him full force, pain and nausea overwhelming his senses. He felt like he was going to throw up. He actually _was _going to throw up.__

Nathan immediately threw the covers off of him and sprinted, fast as he could, to the bathroom. He barely fucking made it, puke and stomach acid hitting the edges of the toilet. It burned coming up his throat. When there was nothing else to expel, Nathan remained bent over the toilet. Trembling and wheezing.

“Oh fuck, that’s gross,” he heard a voice call out behind him.

“Fuck off, Logan,” said Nathan, wiping the bile off his lips with his sleeve.

“Have fun last night?” 

“I said fuck off.” Nathan got to his feet.

“Chill, dude. I’m just trying to help, don’t get all aggro on me.”

“Yeah, you’ve been a _real _help.”__

Logan ran his fingers through his short hair. “Sorry, I’m still sore over the party getting canceled a few days ago. I could have gotten some serious action.”

“Logan, you couldn’t get any action if Michael Bay directed your life.”

“Don’t be a dick, I just wanted to ask you something.”

Nathan clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, irritated. “What?” 

“You said you were gonna cut me off.”

“I only said that to get you off my back. I’m not cutting you off.”

“Okay, cool, ‘cus I was wondering if maybe I could get a hit before practice today.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon, I think.”

_Ugh. _Way too late to even take a comfortable shower. Not unless he had a guarantee that nobody would be coming in. Actually, maybe he could get the guarantee.__

“Fine, I’ll give you a bottle. Under one condition.”

“What?”

“Watch the door for me while I use the bathroom.”

“Deal!” Logan raised his fist. 

Nathan made a disgusted noise and led the way to his bedroom. He told Logan to wait outside, and slammed the door in his face. Like Warren with his pranking gear, Nathan also had a hidden stash of goods. One of his cabinets had so many drugs it almost resembled a pharmacy. He pulled out a small vial of piss-yellow liquid and took it outside to Logan.

“This is the last bottle. I’ll have to make some more later. Make it last.”

“Got it,” he said, giving Nathan five $20s.

“Drink a lot of juice and water to avoid the side effects. The last thing we need is you kicking the bucket from liver problems or getting arrested for ‘roid rage. Wait there ‘till I get my stuff.”

“You’re the boss.”

Nathan went back inside his room to grab his showering kit and his default outfit for when he couldn’t figure out what to wear. It was incomplete without his varsity, but he hadn’t yet picked it up from the cleaners. As stupid as it was to admit, he missed the old thing. Kris had gotten it for him when he got accepted into Blackwell, and it meant a lot to him.

He went into the bathroom and Logan stood outside it, like the deadbeat security guard he was destined to be. He removed his clothes and turned on the faucet. The water was colder than he’d like, the price to pay for waking up late. Still, it helped sooth his migraine.

His thoughts wandered over to the past week, and how much crazy shit happened in such a short time. A girl went missing, another killed herself, he fucking _died, _Jefferson’s ultimatum, the contest, and his new friend. Nathan needed a fucking break.__

His thoughts then wandered to Warren, how the week must have been as crazy—maybe even crazier—for him. And yet, despite all that, he was still somehow cheerful. He actually planned to have a movie night in the middle of all this insanity. It was kind of reassuring. Nathan found himself looking forward to it, actually. The optimism surprised him; he hadn’t even taken his pills yet. 

He turned the faucet off when he was done, and got dressed. To Nathan’s mild surprise and annoyance, Zachary was standing outside next to Logan. Both had that action-movie bodyguard pose. They even had sunglasses on. Nathan would have laughed if he wasn’t so exhausted.

Logan whipped off his sunglasses in a dramatic fashion when he saw Nathan. “You have any trouble, boss?”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “No. Thank you for your concern,” he said sarcastically.

“Just let us know if you have any more problems and we’ll take care of it for you,” Zachary cracked his knuckles. 

They were enjoying this. Logan tried so hard to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched occasionally at the strain. Zachary, then, extended the palm of his hand, expecting payment. Nathan, playing dumb, gave him a high five. 

“Good work, guys. I’ll let you know next time I need two dumbasses to stand in front of a door for twenty minutes.” Nathan pushed past them.

“You paid that wimp Warren to do the exact same thing a few days ago!” Zachary whined.

“I already discussed payment with Logan. Talk to him about it.”

Nathan glanced back to see the horrified look that flashed on Logan’s face. When Zachary turned to look at him, he had replaced it with a dumb look of confusion. 

“What’s he talking ‘bout, Logan?” He heard Zachary ask.

“No clue,” Logan replied.

ooo

_“Got anything in mind?” Nathan asked, browsing through the DVD cabinet._

_“You said your parents were asleep, right?” Victoria asked, and Nathan turned his head to look at her. She was hiding something behind her back._

_“Yeah. We can watch whatever we want,” Nathan said, interested._

_“‘Cus, I was thinking we could watch this,” she took out the movie she was holding behind her back. The label read ‘Brokeback Mountain’._

_“Wait a minute. Isn’t that the movie about the gay cowboys?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Why would you want to watch that?” Nathan said, a little disgusted._

_“Why not?” She countered. “It’s interesting and your parents would flip out if they found out.” Victoria tapped into his need to rebel. She was crafty, if anything._

_Nathan didn’t relent. “I’m not watching that, it’s fucking gross.”_

_“Nathan, half of the movies you own are gross. I mean, look at this,” she took out the box for ‘The Human Centipede’._

_“That came out two days ago, you should be impressed I even have it.”_

_“It’s in German!”_

_“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll watch the gay movie with you if you watch the centipede movie with me.”_

_Victoria scrunched her nose at the idea, but gave in._

_“If anything, at least we’ll get a good laugh out of this.” He watched the movie slide into the DVD player._

ooo

Nathan waited in the parking lot next to Warren’s car for about fifteen minutes before Warren showed up. 

“You’re late,” Nathan said, as customary.

“You literally texted me ten minutes ago,” said Warren.

“Whatthefuckever.” Nathan slid into the backseat. 

“How are you feeling?” Warren asked as he turned on the ignition.

“I’m fine, my hangover is only slightly killing me.”

“I thought you might say that,” Warren reached into his pocket. “So I brought you these.” He gave Nathan two white pills. Aspirin. 

Once again, Nathan was surprised, though he was starting to learn that maybe he shouldn’t be. He didn’t know why or how a person could care so much about someone they barely knew, but Nathan wasn’t complaining. He didn’t understand it, but maybe he didn’t have to. He gathered up as much saliva as he could and swallowed them dry. He already felt better, and it wasn’t because of the pills.

Warren chattered away during the entire car ride about almost anything. Talking about the weather was more interesting this week than it had ever been. He talked about Max, about the investigation, and Nathan grunted occasionally to indicate that he was listening, but otherwise didn’t add to the discussion.

“I’ve been trying to call Tall, Dark, and Handsome for a while now, but he’s not answering,” Warren explained.

_Jefferson. _Nathan didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard to forget, especially seeing how close they were getting to the barn. Jefferson was the last person to have seen Rachel before she disappeared. And yet, he didn’t know anything about Max. _Allegedly_ , his brain provided uselessly. Nathan didn’t know what was going on, but he knew Jefferson was at the center of it all, and he didn’t want Warren getting any closer.__

“Maybe it’s time to quit,” said Nathan, quietly.

That seemed to throw Warren off. “Wait, what?”

“The investigation. Maybe we won’t like what we find.”

“Why? Did you find anything?” There was an urgent tone to his voice.

“No,” Nathan lied. He did a lot of that these days.

“Then why give up? We’re _so close, _Nathan. Probably closer than anyone’s gotten. All we have to do is find out who Tall, Dark, and Handsome is.”__

“And then what?” Nathan snapped. “What if we do find out who he is, and he has no idea what happened to Rachel? Or worse, what if he did know? What if he did something to Rachel? _What then?” _Nathan didn’t realize he raised his voice until he saw Warren flinch.__

A sombre silence filled the car. When Warren spoke his voice was quiet, almost pained. “You might have given up on Rachel, but I’m not giving up on Max. Not ever.”

“Maybe what happened to Max wasn’t the same thing as Rachel. What if we’re looking in the wrong places?” Nathan suggested, also quietly.

“I don’t know if we are. But it’s the only thing we’ve got,” Warren said, and stopped the car. They had reached the barn. 

Nathan unbuckled his seatbelt and went outside. Warren rolled his windshield down. “So, I’ll see you tonight?” He said, but seemed unsure.

“Yeah, come by my room at five.”

“Hell yeah! I’ll bring some sweet party supplies too, count on it!” Warren grinned, feeling more confident.

Nathan wanted to tell him that he already had weed in his room, but didn’t want to ruin his moment. Warren left.

ooo

Nathan hadn’t planned on going to the Two Whales, but when he passed by the large, dated sign, he couldn’t resist and did probably one of the most illegal u-turns ever achieved by mankind. Sure, it wasn’t the same without Joyce, but it was still a good place to eat and forget about everything for an hour.

He had his nose buried in the menu trying to force himself to order something different when the waitress came over. 

“Good afternoon, sweetheart. It’s so good to see you.”

Nathan’s head snapped up at the beautiful, _beautiful _voice. “Joyce! You’re a sight for sore eyes. And trust me, they have been very sore this week,” Nathan said, setting the menu down.__

“I know a thing or two about that. Wish I could say I enjoyed my unpaid vacation, but honestly, it’s been exhausting.”

“Hawaii wasn’t what you thought it would be?” Nathan joked.

Joyce chuckled. “I wish. Sadly, I’ve mostly stayed at home. Tried to help as much as I could to look for poor Max while trying to keep an eye on my daughter. With all the disappearances, I hate to say that my husband’s paranoia finally got to me.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. “Did the police find anything?”

“Not a single trace. I’m starting to think my husband’s right. If there was surveillance at Blackwell we could have at least pinpointed where she was last. All everyone knows is that she left her photography class and vanished. She never did stand out, that poor girl.

“Anyway, my vacation is over, which means it’s back to work. I have to work several nights overtime just to make up for it, can you believe that?”

“That sucks,” said Nathan, not having much in the way of sympathy.

“That’s probably the best way to put it. Anyway, are you done pretending to look at the menu?” She said, already writing down his order.

“Yeah, actually, and I want a hamburger.”

Joyce raised her eyebrow, an amused look came upon her face. “Do you now?”

“I want to try something different.”

“Good, that’s good,” she crossed out what she had already written and jotted down his order. “Drink?”

Nathan tried to think of something else to order than the usual, but in the end, he couldn’t do it. “Chocolate.”

She smirked. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

ooo

_Nathan watched the credits roll by, his eyes fixed on the blurred names. He felt the blankets shift next to him as Victoria moved to get the remote._

_“Well, that was not what I expected,” she said, pausing the movie. “I thought it was going to be worse, to be honest.” She stopped and Nathan felt more than saw her eyes on him. “...Are you crying?” She asked._

_“No, I’m not crying! You’re crying!” His voice broke at the childish retort._

_Victoria’s laugh was uncontrollable and filled with snorts. She clutched at her sides and collapsed on the floor for effect. “Oh my fucking God, you are! You’re crying, I can’t believe it!”_

_“Shut the fuck up!” Nathan said, shoving her and burying himself in the mountain of blankets._

_“You are fifteen years old and you’re crying like a baby,” she teased. “It was a sad movie.”_

_“No, it wasn’t! It was hilarious!” His voice was muffled underneath the blankets. “Comedy-fucking-gold!”_

_“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she sat up and patted him where she thought his head was._

ooo

Nathan found himself in a surprisingly good mood when he reached Blackwell. His hangover was completely gone, the burger was good, and he was going to hang out with Warren later. He didn’t know why he was looking forward to it so much, but he was. 

His mood dropped when he saw David Madsen patrolling the dormitories. 

He wore a hard-set frown and shouted at every student that so much looked his way. Nathan was a hundred percent sure that if David got a whiff of him, he was going to get an earful. Not wanting to deal with that, he waited until the man’s back was turned to make a beeline for the door. 

He almost made it.

“Stop right there, Prescott! I’d like to have a word with you.”

Nathan ignored him and kept walking. 

“Hey! I’m talking to you. I won’t tolerate any disrespect to a security officer!” David followed him to the building and walked past Nathan to block his way. 

Nathan slapped his hands against his jeans, exasperated. “The fuck do you want?”

“I need to speak with you.”

“So? Fucking speak,” Nathan snapped.

David’s mustache twitched irritably. “Something’s going on in Arcadia Bay. I don’t know what it is, but I know that you have something to do with it.”

_This again. _Nathan had been used to getting accusations from David (who wasn’t?), and, quite frankly, he wasn’t in the mood for that today. “Oh really? And what’s that?”__

David’s brows furrowed low on his face. “Don’t get cocky with me. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know everything there is to know about this school and all of its students. You had something to do with Kate Marsh, I know it.” He took a step forward and shoved his finger in Nathan’s chest. 

Nathan took a step back, his bravado waning. “No, I didn’t.”

“And I know you’ve been dealing drugs around campus and that you’re involved with the drug ring that’s centered in Arcadia Bay.” David kept getting closer, and Nathan kept stepping back.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. Principal Wells has authorized the use of video surveillance around the campus. I will patrol this school every single night until I figure out what’s going on and everyone’s safe. I have an eye on you, Prescott. So don’t try anything.”

David turned on his heel and left. Nathan stood there for a few minutes until his head stopped pounding and his surfacing rage ebbed away. He let out a string of curses aimed at the direction where David left.

ooo

It wasn’t five yet by the time he returned to his dorm. It wasn’t five and he was already sick of the world. He still had the movie night to look forward to, but God did the universe want to fuck with him today.

The reason for his shitty mood—apart from David returning—was that his phones were fully charged. Not wanting to check them, but not being able to avoid them either, he went through all of his missed calls and texts.

He had a few calls from his father early in the morning and a voicemail that simply said, _“Where were you last night?” _Thank you, Officer Berry, for ruining his life. Nathan sent a text as a response.__

**[You, Today 4:34 PM]**

_studio_

He hoped that would be enough. Nathan checked his disposable next. No new texts from Frank, or Jefferson. That was a relief. There was no way the man didn’t notice that Nathan was gone, despite his car still being there. He really was expecting at least a message from him, so it was surprising—

Aaaand speak of the Devil.

His phone vibrated in his hand, with the Unknown caller ID. For once, Nathan really, really wished it was Frank. He crossed his fingers and answered.

“What?”

_“Where were you last night?” ___

Talk about déjà-fucking-vu. He almost wished it was his father asking him the question. Almost.

“I got drunk as shit and needed a ride home,” he said.

He heard Jefferson snort derisively on the other end. _“Unless you decided to walk to the nearest bus station ten miles away, somebody was at the barn.” ___

“I wanted to stretch my legs.”

_“I always knew you were irresponsible, but even you know that was downright stupid.” ___

Anger flared inside his chest. He was getting sick and tired of being underestimated. “Oh fuck off, I can handle myself. They didn’t see anything.”

_“Who was it?” Jefferson asked. ___

“Noneya,” Nathan replied.

_“Noneya?” ___

“None ya damn business!” Nathan shouted at the phone as he hung up. _Oh, that felt so good. _He was definitely going to regret it later, but _wow _was it worth it. Like hell was he going to tell him about Warren. The last thing he needed was having him under Jefferson’s radar. He shut the phone off. Nathan was having a good fucking day and not even Jefferson was going to ruin it.____

A knock on the door startled him. He took his time hiding his phone behind the couch before answering. The knocking grew louder and more impatient the longer he took.

“I’m coming, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Nathan said as he opened the door. 

He was half-surprised when he saw Warren on the other side. He was wearing a huge grin, some pajamas (the same pair he wore last night), and he had a bag of already cooked popcorn. It smelled fucking amazing. “Hey, dude! You ready for our movie night?”

“So you’re late for everything else, but you’re early for this,” Nathan said, opening the door wider so Warren could walk in.

“It’s _movies! _Warren Daniel Graham is never late for movies!”__

Nathan paused a bit at the name _Daniel, _but quickly shook the feeling off before Warren could suspect anything.__

“Justin actually let me use his microwave too, so this,” he shook the bag of popcorn, “is fresh.”

“Where’s the weed?” Nathan asked.

Warren’s smile slid off his face and he looked at Nathan, confused. “The what?”

“You said you had party supplies.”

Warren looked at him blankly and shook the bag of popcorn again. _Of course. _In retrospect, Nathan should have expected it.__

Warren snorted, Nathan suppressed a chuckle, and before long both of them were laughing completely unbidden.

“I can’t believe I thought you would bring weed. You look like you haven’t even taken a hit of baby aspirin,” Nathan said between gasps.

“Hey, I could be hardcore if I wanted to,” Warren said defensively, but his body was still wracked with laughter.

“Oh really?” Nathan’s laugh calmed down and there were tears at the corner of his eyes. “Have you ever drank before? And taking a sip from your parents doesn’t count.”

“Sure,” Warren said. “I drink soda all the time.”

That got Nathan laughing again and he shoved Warren lightly in the arm. “Shut the fuck up. You’re so fucking stupid.”

Warren’s laughter eventually died with a soft chuckle here and there. “I do have a bag of candy and coke back in my room. I only brought this ‘cus I was afraid of coming on too strong.”

Nathan didn’t think he could handle another round of giggling if he brought out the obvious cocaine joke so he just said, “Get the shit, I’ll set up the projection.”

Warren left, excited. Nathan took his time setting up the projector and began thinking about what movie they could watch. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard with someone without being high. It was over something so stupid, too. It reminded him of Victoria, back when they first had met. Before his life went down the shitter. 

No. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. Nathan finished setting up and, out of the corner of his eye, spotted the shrine he had for Kate. Not wanting Warren to ask any questions, he hid it in his closet, just in time before he came in. 

Warren was balancing a two-liter soda with a large bag of name-brand chocolate. He tossed both on the bed, before settling himself. Then, he looked at Nathan sheepishly before asking. “I hope this is okay?”

“You can sit on the floor.”

Warren pouted, but made to leave the bed and Nathan had to grab his arm to stop him. “I’m joking, dumbass. Sit wherever, I don’t give a fuck.”

That cheered him up and he sat on the edge of Nathan’s bed. “So, what should we watch?”

“Your pick,” Nathan said. If he was allowed to pick a movie, they would be there all night.

“I wanna watch something I’ve never seen before,” Warren said, climbing over Nathan to get to the other side of the room. He stopped at the cabinet and looked them over. “I’m guessing you’ve seen all of these movies, so is there anything you recommend?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know which ones you haven’t seen?”

“Good point.” Warren took a box out, read the summary, and put it back. “This is a tough choice.”

Nathan was starting to learn that Warren was also one of those people that spend more time choosing the movie than actually watching it. “Take out the ones you haven’t seen and bring them over,” Nathan said.

Warren did, and it turned out that there were a lot of movies he hadn’t seen. Most of them remained in the cabinet, though. They placed them on the bed and both of them sat on either side, legs crossed. Warren sometimes would take a movie, read the summary, and put it back. 

It was a good twenty minutes later when Nathan took one and said, “You’ve never seen _Donnie Darko?” ___

“No,” said Warren.

“Let’s watch it. It’s a cult classic, considered controversial, and most importantly,” he leaned closer to Warren, “it has time travel.”

Warren slapped his hands against his thighs and said, “I’m in.”

ooo

Nathan learned a lot of things about Warren while watching _Donnie Darko._

One, Warren talked a lot during movies. It was mostly just reactions to what was happening onscreen, and it stopped just before it would be considered annoying. He laughed at things he thought were funny, pointed out errors and inconsistencies, and mentioned any actors he knew by name.

Two, he didn’t react to certain scenes the way you would expect someone to react. He, in fact, often reacted completely the opposite way. The movie didn’t have many jump-scares, but the ones that it did have, Warren didn’t react the way he was supposed to. He would jump, sure, but quickly fall into a fit of laughter. If something sad happened, he would also laugh. Nathan found it strange.

Three, Warren could be seriously morbid. Aside from laughing whenever anything shitty happened to the protagonist, he would often make comments that were just, well, dark. Even by Nathan’s standards. 

Overall, Nathan learned that Warren loved movies just as much as he did. He pegged science fiction and horror as being his favorite genres. Victoria liked movies about as much as the next person, but Nathan was hard-pressed to find someone that _loved _them as much as he did.__

“You’re fucking weird,” said Nathan when the movie ended.

“That’s rude,” said Warren, chewing a Reese’s cup. 

“You really like movies.”

“No _duh. _Of course I do! Who wouldn’t?”__

“No, I mean you _really _love them. Like, more than most.”__

Warren stopped chewing and turned to look at Nathan. “Well, yeah. To be honest, it’s one of the reasons I came to Blackwell.”

Nathan didn’t follow. “What do you mean?”

“Blackwell has one of the best science and arts programs in the country. I actually enrolled pretty late in the year. I managed to get an academic scholarship, and I applied for the arts program, but it was full. I’m actually on a waitlist for Advanced Photography.”

“Why?”

“I love science. I really, really do. But I’ve always wanted to work with movies, ever since I was a kid. I wouldn’t mind becoming a scientist, but I’ve always wanted to be a film director.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ve never really talked about it. I wanted to take Advanced Photography because I thought it would help me see things through the eye of a camera and help me with moods, lighting, themes, etcetera. I never told anyone about it because I was afraid they would think I was a poser. I mean, I don’t even own a camera.”

Warren sighed. “But I kinda gave up on that when I couldn’t get into the program. It’s no big deal, I’d still love to be a scientist. What about you?”

Nathan was caught off-guard when the attention suddenly shifted to him. “What about me?”

“Why do you study photography?”

Huh. Nobody had ever asked him that question before. If they had, he would have probably replied with a ‘because I fucking like it, you moron’, but after hearing Warren’s feelings on films and photography, Nathan felt like he owed him more than that. 

“I feel like nobody really understands me,” Nathan said, then scrunched his nose. “Okay, I know that sounds like regular teen-angst, but I got a bunch of issues. I don’t know, I guess photography is the only way I can show people how I see the world. When everyone’s brain is different from yours, you can get real fucking lonely.” He winced at how embarrassing that sounded. It wasn’t easy for him to open up to somebody, and he was already beginning to regret it.

“I get it,” said Warren. “Photography is just a way of connecting with people. You’re just trying to express yourself in a non-destructive way.”

That was surprisingly perceptive, coming from him, who tended to be a bit clueless sometimes. Nathan’s gaze flicked from his hands to Warren, who was giving him a warm smile. “Yeah,” Nathan said, his mouth dry. “I guess you’re right.”

“Can I see it?” Warren asked.

It was an innocent question, but Warren understood the weight of it. He wasn’t just asking to see his photography; he was asking to see the world through Nathan’s eyes. Hannah had told him that he could see the beauty in anything. Nathan wondered if Warren would feel the same, or if he would run. He really hoped he wouldn’t run. 

Nathan gave him a single nod, then pulled out a binder from under his bed. His portfolio. It was still a work in progress, but it contained his best works. The ones Jefferson praised. He passed the sleek binder to Warren, who laid it open on his lap. Nathan braced himself for the reaction.

“Nathan, this is… This is really good,” Warren said, completely impressed.

Nathan perked up. “Yeah?”

“Look at that shot,” Warren showed him the picture of the lighthouse. It was a stormy day and he managed to catch a bolt of lightning in the background. A one in a million shot, Jefferson had called it. Nathan was proud of it. “It gives me chills.”

“Thanks.”

Warren carefully flipped the page. The next photograph was the one with the old man in the graveyard. His breath caught in his throat. “This is really fucking good.”

“It was my entry for the contest.”

“Seriously?” Warren looked at him in disbelief. “I mean,—no offense to Stella, she’s really talented—but this is _way _better than her entry. Look at the composition, the emotion. Just how did you get a shot like this?”__

“Luck. I just so happened to be at the cemetery the same time he was.”

“How did you not win?”

Nathan wasn’t going to tell him the whole point of the contest was for Jefferson’s photoshoot, but in that moment he really wished he could. If only so Warren would know that he would have won otherwise. 

“This was taken on Wednesday, right?”

He was at the picture of the dead sparrow. The picture Hannah loved so much. Nathan nodded.

“I love it. I don’t know how you could make a dead bird look good, but you really nailed it.”

Nathan released a soundless chuckle, and said _thanks. _He didn’t really know what else he could say.__

They spent the next ten minutes like that, until Warren finished the portfolio. Nathan’s chest grew warm at the praise. He found himself idly smiling. 

“So. What next?” Warren asked, giving Nathan the binder.

Nathan slipped it under his bed. He should find a better place for it. “Wanna watch another movie?”

“Hell yeah.”

ooo

They were halfway into their third movie when Nathan heard the sound of a snore next to him. He shifted slightly so he could look at Warren. He had fallen asleep sitting up, his arms folded in front of him. Warren’s neck was crooked in an uncomfortable position and his head kept lolling to the side. Eventually, it ended up on Nathan’s shoulder. 

Nathan should be annoyed. He should push Warren off and tell him to sleep in his own damn bed. He should move his shoulder, let Warren’s head fall and have him startle awake. But one look at his face, so relaxed and peaceful, and Nathan couldn’t fucking do it. The projection gave Warren’s face a soft blue glow, and for the first time Nathan noticed his long-ass eyelashes. Nathan wasn’t in the most comfortable position, but he didn’t move. He told himself he was just doing it to repay the favor. It wasn’t because he wanted Warren there. It wasn’t.

ooo

_Nathan didn’t know he had fallen asleep. His eyelids were heavy as he opened them. Julie Andrews was singing on a field on the projection. They ended up not watching The Human Centipede as Nathan decided that it didn’t fit with the theme and they chose something more cheerful. They moved to the couch eventually, not really seeing the point in having sore asses in the morning._

_Victoria had fallen asleep on the other side of the couch, her arms folded underneath her head and her mouth drooling just slightly. What a crazy fucking summer. In two months he had finished summer school, made a friend, lost fifteen pounds, and now he was finally entering high school. He looked over at Victoria fondly. Nathan couldn’t have done any of it without her. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It was at that moment that Nathan swore he was going to pay her back for everything she had done for him. He would never leave her._


	12. Murphy's Law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we broke 100k and I haven't even gotten halfway through the fic yet? (Note to self: maybe chill a little in the future, yeah?)

_October 14_

Mondays were the bane of Warren's existence. 

Skipping three days of class (one of them had been cancelled, at least), had done a number on his schedule. Homeworks and reviews had piled in for all his classes, and he had to come up with a plan to balance them all. English being the worst, as usual.

Thoughts of English class and homeworks had preoccupied his mind as he took a seat in the science lab. He waved at Brooke as he walked in, and she gave him an odd look. Like she was surprised to see him there. 

“Good morning, class” Ms. Grant said, and the room greeted her in unison. Warren perked up at the usual greeting. He had to admit, he had missed the lab. Surrounded by beakers, chemicals, and notes, Warren felt like he was at home. 

Ms. Grant shuffled a stack of papers and began passing them around. “I have your results from Friday’s exam. I noticed some of you did poorly, so we’ll be reviewing the key points again next chapter. Don’t worry, you will still have time to make up for the grade.”

...Exam? 

_Exam?! ___

Warren looked at Ms. Grant, horrified, as she passed by his table without giving him his results. Of course she didn’t give him the results, he didn’t come to class on Friday, which meant he hadn’t taken the test! 

She gave him a _look _out of the corner of her eye and Warren didn’t think he’d ever seen such a disappointed look from a teacher. He glanced at Brooke and could see the _A _written in red ink on her paper. Brooke caught him looking and shook her head sympathetically.____

“Alright, please open your books to Chapter 23…”

Warren was dazed during the rest of the class. They talked about hereditary molecules and DNA. He really should have been paying attention, but couldn’t get over the shock of missing a test. He opened his notebook to take notes and saw that he had written _‘Test on FRIDAY!! Nucleic Acids and Carbohydrates!!!’ _on the top margin in the latest page, but honestly could not recall ever writing it. It felt like it was written by a different person entirely.__

There was a drawing of Max on the previous page. A pretty good one, if he did say so himself. He felt a mix of secondhand embarassment and longing for his old self. The one without time powers or worries, his biggest concern at the time being the test on Friday and asking Max out. It felt like so much time had passed since then.

The bell rang and students filed out of the classroom. Warren lagged behind until he and Ms. Grant were the only ones left. 

“Um, Ms. Grant,” Warren began.

“You want to talk about the test you missed,” she answered.

“...Yeah.”

She looked at his guilty expression and softened. “I know a lot has happened this last week, and I don’t blame you if you’ve missed class because of it. I know that you were good friends with both Max and Kate.”

Warren nodded.

“And you’re one of my best students. I see a bright future ahead of you, but not if you keep your head in the clouds.”

“I know, Ms. Grant. It’s not like I do it on purpose. I’ve been trying really hard, but with Max gone, I’ve been really worried,” he rubbed at the back of his neck.

“We all are, Warren. Max is one of my favorite students. Blackwell just isn’t the same without her. But we have to keep moving on. Leave the investigating to the professionals and we do our parts whenever we can. You can’t skip school to go sleuthin’ all over the bay.”

Warren felt his face flush. How did she know? “I wasn’t—I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare deny it, it’s written all over your face. You were looking for Max this past week. That’s why you skipped class and haven’t kept up with your homework.”

No sense in hiding it. He sighed. “Yeah.”

“You can take the test on Wednesday afternoon,” she offered. “However, I will be dropping a letter from the grade.”

“What? A _letter?” _Warren squeaked.__

“I’m sorry, Warren, it’s just policy. You might want to do extra-credit if you want to keep your GPA high enough to maintain your scholarship. Especially after this,” she slid a sheet of paper towards him. It was the result of the lab last Tuesday. He got a B-. Warren was going to faint.

She gave a supportive smile at the dismay on his face. “I suggest you kiss up to Brooke to give you the notes.”

“I will. Thanks, Ms. Grant,” he said, depressed.

“Chin up, Warren. You have plenty of time to get your grades up. And we’ll find Max, don’t worry.”

ooo

Science was Warren’s last class of the day. The first thing he did when he left the lab was, you guessed it, kiss up to Brooke.

**[You, Today 4:12 PM]**

_Heyyyy Scotty! ___

**[Brooke, Today 4:12 PM]**

_Oh. Now you’re talking to me. ___

Warren winced at the cold reply. But he probably deserved it. He completely forgot about his friends the entire week.

**[You, Today 4:13 PM]**

_:’( ___

**[You, Today 4:13 PM]**

_Sorry. A lot of bizarro shit happened this week. ___

**[Brooke, Today 4:13 PM]**

_I’ll say. You ignored all my emails AND you missed our study session on Thursday. ___

Thursday, what was he doing on Thursday? Oh, right. He was with Nathan at the junkyard. Everything changed so much in such a short amount of time. He found it hard to believe that exactly a week ago Nathan was ready to pummel him in the parking lot.

**[You, Today 4:14 PM]**

_Sorry!!! I’ll make it up to you, I swear!! ___

**[Brooke, Today 4:14 PM] ******

_How? ___

**[You, Today 4:14 PM] ******

_Uh ___

**[Brooke, Today 4:16 PM] ******

_*sigh* I’ll meet you at the library. ___

**[You, Today 4:16 PM] ******

_Thanks!! I owe ya one!_

ooo

Blackwell’s library was comparatively small, with more computers than bookcases. Warren didn’t frequent it as much as everyone thought he did, with him being the resident nerd and all. Brooke, however, practically lived there. He found her at the table she usually haunted, at the farthest, most secluded corner in the room. Warren gave a small wave to the librarian at the desk as he passed her by. She didn’t bother to return it.

“Hey, Brooke,” he greeted, and took the seat across from her.

“Hey, yourself.” She gave him a smile.

“Ready to talk science?” 

“You know me,” she took out her notebook. “By the by, I’ve been meaning to have a discussion with you about all the extraordinary weather events that have occurred this past week.”

“Yeah! Well, I haven’t really given it much thought, to be honest. This week’s been really hectic for me.”

“That’s unlike you,” she commented. “You missed class two days in a row, too. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been, uh,” Warren struggled to think of what he could tell her and what should remain a secret. He never really considered telling Brooke about his time powers, even though she would be more enthusiastic about figuring them out than anyone he knew. But, he didn’t know how she would react to everything else. He hated keeping secrets, but he wasn’t ready to tell her yet. “I’ve been looking for Max.”

“Oh,” she said simply. Yeah, that was pretty much how he expected her to react. 

“As you probably know, I haven’t really found anything.”

“You weren’t at the search party. At any of them,” she pointed out.

Warren picked at his cuticles, caught himself, and stopped. He looked for something else to distract his hands with. “I guess I’ve been doing my own investigation.”

She hummed and began flipping pages in her notebook. “So, I suppose you ended up not going to the Drive-In then?”

What a weird thing to ask. Warren absently ripped a blank page off his notebook. “Uh, no. Without Max there wasn’t really a point.”

“They’re having a rerun next weekend. You know, in case you’re interested.”

“Thanks, Brooke. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gave him a smile and redirected their attention to her notes. Warren found that the test wasn’t all that difficult, and he knew most of the material. There were a few things that caught him by surprise, so he was glad he had Brooke. Since he was already losing more than ten points for missing the exam, he needed all the help he could get.

ooo

They remained in the library for almost two hours, until the librarian kicked them out for being ‘too rowdy.’ Naturally, that was Warren’s fault. At some point he started making an army of paper airplanes from pages in his notebook. In the name of science, of course.

“But it’s physics, Ms. Foster! Aerodynamics!” He defended himself.

“And this is why we don’t go to the library to study. I almost forgot,” Brooke said, but she was smiling.

“So, let’s go over our list. We have the snow on Monday, the eclipse on Tuesday, dead animals on Wednesday, and the heat wave on Friday.” Warren counted them with his fingers. Their study session had inevitably devolved to discussing the past week’s weather patterns, and trying to make sense of them.

“You forgot the double moon on Thursday,” Brooke said.

“Wait, what double moon?”

“There were two moons in the sky, right next to the other. Like a reflection.”

_“Seriously?!” ___

“Where _were _you that you didn’t see it?”__

Where was he on Thursday? Oh, that was right. He was with Nathan, picking up his car at the Two Whales. “I was sleeping,” he told Brooke. It wasn’t a lie, he really did fall asleep.

“You weren’t at your dorm.”

“You went to my dorm?”

“There were two moons in the sky, Warren!”

“Okay, okay, gotcha. So, including the thunderstorm on Saturday, that makes it six days in a row. That’s freaky.”

“Wrong. It’s _seven _days in a row.”__

Warren frowned and took a second to remember the previous day. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Brooke gave him a disbelieving look. “Did you not notice the freaking moon?”

“Ah, no?”

She took an exasperated breath. “Last night was a full moon when it should have been a waxing gibbous. The lunar phases are all out of whack. Seriously, what’s the matter with you?”

For some reason that rubbed at Warren the wrong way. “I was a little bit busy, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking at the fucking moon.”

He realized what he’d said when he saw the shock on Brooke’s face. _What the hell got into him? _He backtracked. “Shit, I’m sorry, Brooke. It’s been a weird week. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”__

“No, I get it,” she said, turning away from him. “You’re busy. I won’t bother you any longer.”

“No, Brooke, wait, no,” he grabbed her shoulder and she stopped. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Everything’s just been so hectic I haven’t gotten a chance to settle down. Honestly, with all the shit that’s been going on, it almost feels like the end of the world.”

“That’s dramatic.”

Warren chuckled bashfully. “Yeah, well.”

She took a calming breath. “It’s okay, Warren. I’m sorry if I’ve been on edge. It’s not your fault.”

He patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow for another study sesh, right Scotty?”

She offered him a small, but genuine smile. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

 

ooo

Homework, homework, and more homework. That was what became of Warren’s life. He spent two hours on his English essay alone, and he still had all of his other classes to deal with. His usually cluttered desk was now completely covered in papers, books, and eraser shavings. He buried his head in his arms. _Critical thinking my ass. _He would kill for a break.__

That was why when his phone rang he scrambled to pick it up, the excitement of having a distraction making him clumsy. He ended up knocking over a cup half full with room-temperature coffee. It spilled all over his papers, ruining two hours of work. He grumbled before rewinding.

Something moved over the corner of his eye, but it was gone as soon as he let go of the pull. He tried rewinding again, just to test it. He didn’t expect to see Max sitting on his bed. 

She was crying, he realized with a pang. It broke his heart to see it. Her face was buried in her hands and her shoulders were shaking. Warren walked towards her carefully, trying as if not to startle her. It was hard—like walking underwater—the air itself seemed to hold him back. But he refused let go of the pull. He sat gingerly on his bed and attempted to wrap an arm around her shoulders, but his hand phased through. It killed him not to be able to comfort her.

The corners of his vision began turning red and Warren ignored it, focused entirely on Max. With a sniff, she lifted her head. She was looking straight at him. He held his breath for a moment, thinking she could see him. Words came out of her mouth without sound. 

“Can you see me?” He tried asking.

She didn’t respond. She acted like she was listening to something, or someone. She spoke again, but still, no sound.

Warren could not ignore the pain that threatened to split his skull open and with an otherworldly yank, the pull was forced away from him. Max was gone.

Blood was running from his nose freely, staining the collar of his shirt. He wiped it with the back of his hand, no doubt spreading it across his upper lip. 

Why, why, _why _could he see Max when he rewinded? He mulled it over and over again, but couldn’t figure it out. Warren hadn’t told Nathan about it. He didn’t want to until he had an explanation for it. But without help, it seemed impossible.__

His phone rang, the way it did earlier. A glance at the caller ID told him it was his dad. It was unusual, but not completely weird to get a call from him at the beginning of the week. He pulled on the hem of his shirt and held it up against his nostrils. The shirt was ruined anyway, so might as well. He answered the call.

“Hey.”

_“Warren.” ___

_Uh oh. _Warren had no idea what he could have done wrong. But his father was using _that _tone. Warren groaned and lied flat on his bed. “What did I do?”____

His father took a deep breath. “I was in your room the other day, looking for some of your old comic books.”

“Okay?”

“And I find _this. _Do you mind explaining this to me?”__

Warren chuckled into his shirt. “Dad, I can’t see what you’re holding.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Warren heard him shift the phone from one ear to another. “I am holding a bottle of beer in my hands.”

Warren frowned. What was he talking about? “Beer? I don’t—” He cut himself off as his memory provided a flashback to Nathan and Chloe in his room. They had brought alcohol while working on the investigation. Warren had completely forgotten about it. “Oh, _that _beer.”__

“Uh-huh. _That _beer.”__

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s not mine?” Warren tried.

“It better not be. _Coors Light _is a piece of shit.”__

“I wouldn’t know.”

_“Heineken _is much better and—Wait, no. I know what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”__

Warren sighed. “Didn’t think it would.”

“Come on, son. You’re too young to be drinking. You should be focusing on school and crushes and whatnot. Not alcohol and partying.”

“I know, dad.”

There was a pause in the conversation where neither of them said anything. Then, his dad took a breath.

“...I’m going to confiscate your car. Until further notice. I’ll come by to pick up your keys tomorrow.”

“Wait, _what?” _Warren shot up on his bed. “I literally got that car last week!”__

“I know, Warren. And I am sorry, but it’s for your own good.”

“Daaaad,” Warren moaned, slumping back down on his pillow. “I really didn’t do it.”

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Drinking is one thing, but lying about it is another.” There was another pause, and he heard his dad sigh deeply. “Focus on your schoolwork. Keep your grades up. You’ll have her back before you know it.”

Warren didn’t even want to think about telling his dad about his grades. 

“Anyway, I have to go, but we’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodbye, Warr.”

With that, the line went dead.

Warren hung up. He wasn’t mad at his dad—he didn’t think he could be. Punishing him was just as hard on his dad as it was on Warren. His father was never the disciplinarian, and the past few years had been rough on the both of them.

Blood was still flowing from his nose, but not much. He opened his bedside drawer and took a wad of tissue. He plugged his nostrils with it, and changed out of his shirt. 

He rewinded again, just to test it, to see if Max was still there. He could only manage a few seconds before pain brought him back.

Max was gone.

ooo

Warren had set his homework aside to play computer games for a while. _A Wolf Among Us _had come out last Friday, and he spared a few dollars to try it. It was good, but didn’t get rid of the impending sense of failure that had overcome him in the past few hours.__

But, once again, the universe had to remind him that he was not supposed to be having fun. With a low hum, his room was plunged in complete darkness as the power went out. He almost threw his controller in resignation. Almost. Breaking his controller would have been the cherry on top of a terrible day. Warren tried to remember if the game had an autosave option. 

Fumbling in the dark, he used his phone’s flashlight to get around. Not knowing what else to do, he laid on his bed, face up at the ceiling. It was 9 PM, far too early to fall asleep. At least with his standards. Browsing through his phone, none of his apps seemed appealing to him at the moment. None except the messaging app. 

**[You, Today 9:13 PM] ******

_I'm bored. ___

Surprisingly, the reply came before Warren could shut off his phone. He snickered. _I guess I’m not the only one who’s bored, _he thought.__

**[Nathan, Today 9:13 PM] ******

_so??? ___

**[You, Today 9:13 PM] ******

_So tell me something. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:13 PM] ******

_like???? ___

**[You, Today 9:14 PM] ******

_I don’t know, the power went out. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:14 PM] ******

_rly??? i hadnt noticd ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:14 PM] ******

_thats sarcasm btw ___

Typical Nathan. Warren supposed he was going to have to initiate the conversation.

**[You, Today 9:15 PM] ******

_My dad’s gonna take away my car :’( ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:15 PM] ******

_lol_

**[You, Today 9:15 PM] ******

_How can you say that :’((_  
_You are the most heartless person i’ve ever met._

**[Nathan, Today 9:15 PM] ******

_its a gift ___

**[You, Today 9:16 PM] ******

_:’(((((( ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:16 PM] ******

_fine ill bite. why did he take away ur car ___

**[You, Today 9:16 PM] ******

_Underage drinking. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:16 PM] ******

_?!?!?!?! ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:17 PM] ******

_?? ___

**[Nathan Today 9:17 PM] ******

_this whole time i thought u were a babby_  
_how many chest hairs did u grow_

**[You, Today 9:17 PM] ******

_LOL, hate to disappoint but I wasn’t the one drinking._  
_My dad found the bottles you and Chloe left behind in my room._  
_I think he’ll believe me if I explain to him that you guys were drinking and not me but I’ll still get in trouble for letting you guys drink beer in my room._  
_Also I don’t want to explain the whole investigation thing._

**[Nathan, Today 9:18 PM] ******

_lame._  
_remind me 2 get u drunk so the punishment wuld be worth it_

**[You, Today 9:18 PM] ******

_I’ll keep that in mind._

**[You, Today 9:19 PM] ******

_What were you doing before the power went out? ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:19 PM] ******

_gettin high and fukking bisheeeeeees ___

**[You, Today 9:19 PM] ******

_No, really. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:20 PM] ******

_ugh hw ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:20 PM] ******

_but i was tottaly high ___

**[You, Today 9:20 PM] ******

_That I believe . ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:20 PM **]****

_and u? ___

**[You, Today 9:20 PM] ******

_Also homework. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:21 PM] ******

_ha nerd ___

**[You, Today 9:21 PM] ******

_!! You were doing the same thing !! ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:21 PM] ******

_im not a nerd tho ___

**[You, Today 9:21 PM] ******

_That remains to be seen_  
_On a side note I missed a test last week and my life is over._

**[Nathan, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_u mean the chem test? ___

**[You, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_You take AP Science?? ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_uh yea ___

**[You, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_And you call ME a nerd…_  
_Ms. Grant is gonna let me retake it on Wedsnesday, you?_

**[Nathan, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_im also taking it on wedneysday ___

**[You, Today 9:22 PM] ******

_We’re probably going to take it together!! ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:23 PM] ******

_lemme copy off u ___

**[You, Today 9:23 PM] ******

_No, that’s cheating. ___

**[Nathan, Today 9:23 PM] ******

_im still gonna do it ___

Warren chuckled at that. _Typical Nathan. _He could tell Nathan was kidding, but even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t bother him.__

The power hadn’t returned an hour later, and they kept texting nonstop throughout that time. He learned a few things about Nathan, such as he had a sister who was in the Peace Corps. Warren thought it was cool, and the way he talked about it, he could tell that Nathan admired her greatly. And that he missed her, though he didn’t say it. 

Eventually, Warren fell asleep with his phone next to him, Nathan’s unread message shining brightly in the dark.

ooo

Loud music began playing next to his ear and Warren woke up with a jolt. A childish whine rumbled in his throat when he realized it was his ringtone. He picked up the call without opening his eyes, pressing the phone against his cheek. 

“‘Ello?” He said, voice thick with sleep.

“Oh thank God you picked up!” A distressed voice spoke through the line.

“Chloe? What’s up?” 

“Frank’s fucking lost it! He’s trying to break into my house and fucking step-douche won’t pick up my calls and he confiscated my truck and my gun so I’ve been trying to get into the garage but he’s locked it tight—”

Warren shifted his body and propped himself up on his elbows. His brain was processing everything slowly. “Whoa, whoa, Chloe. Slow down. What?”

“He’s really fucking pissed! It’s ‘cus I didn’t pay him last week—fuck!” Warren heard something shatter from her end.

“Chloe! Are you okay?”

“He’s in the garage! Frank got into the garage! Fuck!” More noise. “Please help!” 

“Where do you live?” 

Chloe gave him directions, her voice breaking in random intervals from panic. She ran while she talked, and found a place to hide. She whispered a ‘please hurry’ and the line went dead.

Warren had already put on his shoes and was running out of his room. If he floored it, he could probably make it to Chloe’s house in ten minutes, assuming the power had gone out throughout the entire area so he wouldn’t be slowed down by red lights—

_‘And then what?’ _His brain provided. He couldn’t face Frank alone, he needed backup.__

“Shit, shit, shit!” Warren panicked. Without giving it much thought, he ran straight to Nathan’s door and knocked on it hard.

“Fuck off!” He heard Nathan’s drowsy voice on the other side.

“It’s me, open up! It’s urgent!”

It worked, and Warren could’ve cried from relief when he saw Nathan’s red, sleep-deprived eyes glaring at him.

“Chloe’s in danger,” he spoke before Nathan had a chance to. “Frank’s over at her house and I think he wants to hurt her.”

Nathan looked annoyed, but seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. He said ‘fuck’, under his breath and went back inside the room. Warren wanted to scream. The anxiety was killing him.

Nathan returned with his gun. Warren’s throat made a strangled sound when he saw it. 

“It’s a last resort,” Nathan tried, and failed, to reassure him. At Warren’s conflicted expression he rolled his eyes and pushed past him. “We don’t have time for this, come on.”

Warren nodded, biting his lip. Nathan followed him to the parking lot.

“Frank is not a bad guy,” Nathan explained when they reached Warren’s car. “But he can get violent. Like, _really _violent.”__

“Chloe owed him money. A few thousand dollars,” Warren explained.

“Stupid bitch. She should’ve known better than to owe a drug dealer money.”

“Don’t call her that,” Warren chastised before flooring it.

 

They reached Chloe’s house in record time. Warren tried calling her, but it went straight to voicemail. The front door and all adjacent windows were locked. As they circled the house, they found where Frank broke in. A window by the garage, metal shutters caved in and a bug screen torn open by a knife.

Warren and Nathan crawled through the opening and sucked in horrified breaths as they took in the scene. The garage was completely destroyed. Papers were strewn about, screens were shattered, tools were destroyed. Glass cracked underneath his foot. Nathan’s eyes widened in dread. Warren followed his line of sight. 

“Oh, fuck,” Nathan breathed.

A gun rack sat in the corner of the room, next to the door. Shards of glass littered the floor surrounding it. Inside, a gun was missing. Frank was armed.

“I really hope that was like that before he got here,” said Warren, a futile attempt at being positive.

“Or Frank is packing heat.” Nathan scowled and turned to Warren. “If I die—”

“You won’t,” Warren reassured him.

_“If I die,” _Nathan insisted, “I’m haunting Chloe for the rest of my afterlife.”__

“It won’t come to that. I’ll make sure of it.”

The retort in Nathan’s mouth died out when the sound of a gunshot and a scream rang inside the house. Warren and Nathan exchanged a look and they ran to the direction of the sound. To the left, up the stairs.

“Come out, you fucking coward! You have a _lot _to answer for!” Frank’s voice echoed through the hall. He was yelling at a closed door at the end of it. A pistol was shaking in his hand. There were two bullet holes through the door.__

Nathan aimed his own handgun at Frank, his hand also shaking. 

“Frank! Leave Chloe alone!” It was Warren who spoke.

Frank whipped around and Warren winced at the sight of him. Reddened eyes stood out against startlingly pale skin. Beads of sweat were perched on his brow and dripping down the sides of his face. A tremor ran through his body.

“Who the _fuck _are you?!” His gun was now aimed at Warren, his finger resting over the trigger. Warren didn’t dare move.__

_“Shit,”_ Nathan whispered to Warren. _“He’s high. Really fucking high.”_

_“Not the, uh,”_ Warren swallowed what little saliva he had. _“The happy kind, right?”_

“Shut the fuck up!” Frank shouted, switching his gun from Warren to Nathan. “Don’t fucking talk like I can’t hear you!”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just calm down, okay? Let’s—Let’s put the guns down and talk this out, okay?” Warren spoke slowly, and showed his palms to Frank, the same way you would a frightened animal.

_“Warren, shit, look at his hands,” _Nathan once again whispered to him.__

Warren couldn’t quite contain the shocked gasp that escaped his mouth. Frank only had four fingers on each hand. His right ring finger and his left pointer finger had been cut off at the joint, sloppily bandaged up with cheap gauze. Blood coagulated at the stump.

“I’m done talking!” Frank said. “You fucking prick, you’re going to pretend to care about me when nobody even fucking noticed I went missing for two days?!”

Warren looked at Nathan, who shook his head and shrugged. “You were missing? Where did you go?” He asked.

“I was kidnapped. Fuckers took my fingers!”

“And—And this has something to do with Chloe?”

“This has _everything _to do with Chloe!” Frank turned on his heel and shot, twice, at the wooden door. Inside the closet, Chloe screamed.__

“Hey!” Nathan said, cocking his own weapon. “Stop that!”

“I should have never hooked up with you punks! You’re just as guilty as she is!” Frank pointed at Nathan.

“Just how the fuck am I the reason your fucking fingers got cut?”

“Tell us what happened, Frank,” Warren tried to be the voice of reason. “Put the gun down, and tell us.”

Frank scoffed, but didn’t put his weapon down. He aimed it at Nathan as he talked. “I was a fucking softie, that’s what happened. I should have known she wouldn’t have been able to pay me and I still lent her the money. Three thousand dollars.”

“And you owed?” Nathan prompted.

“I couldn’t pay up. So they took my fingers, extended my deadline. A week each.”

“For three thousand dollars? That’s chump change and you know it,” said Nathan.

Frank sighed, ran a hand down his face. “It was more than that.”

“So, why—”

“I thought I would have managed it, but then you cancelled your fucking party and I had no way to pay.”

Nathan inhaled. “Look, that wasn’t—”

“Which wouldn’t have been _so _bad, except then I got a nice little text from you saying you needed speed. I thought I was saved for sure.”__

Warren and Nathan grimaced, knowing what was coming next.

“I drove all the way to that creepy-ass barn in the middle of nowhere and _you _were a no show! And then my fucking ledger was stolen and I was well and thoroughly fucked!”__

Guilt came to Warren painfully and his cheeks turned red. He still had Frank’s ledger in his room. But there was no way he could admit that, unless he wanted holes in his chest.

Warren ran a hand through his hair. “We’re sorry that happened to you, but Chloe doesn’t have anything to do with that. You’re just—You’re angry. And you’re hurt. You need someone to blame and to you that someone is Chloe. But this wasn’t her fault and you know it. Please, put the gun down.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.” Then, Frank narrowed his eyes, staring intensively at Warren. “I remember you. You said you were going to help Chloe pay me back.”

“Uh—”

“You did a great job. A great fucking job, didn’t you? Are you gonna save her ass again? Jump in front of a bullet for her? You got it bad, kid.”

“It’s not like that…” 

“Just, _fuck, _everything went to shit. This wasn’t how I thought my life would turn out.”__

“It’s not too late,” Warren suggested, but Frank shook his head.

“And Rachel,” Frank made a choked noise with the back of his throat. “Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. It always comes back to Rachel. I always knew she would leave me, but not like this. I don’t know where she went or what happened to her or what she was going to tell me the day she disappeared. It’s killing me.”

“Rachel wouldn’t want you to do this. Chloe was her best friend. She wouldn’t want you to hurt her.”

“Chloe was part of the problem! Always tying Rachel down, guilting her, no wonder she wanted to leave!”

Warren frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Rachel was always keeping secrets from Chloe, because Chloe can’t handle anything without blowing up. Our relationship, her jobs, her fucking sex life. Chloe always pulled ‘the whole world is against me’ card whenever things didn’t go the way she wanted them.”

Nathan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Newsflash, that’s what Rachel did. She kept secrets. From you, and everyone.”

“I know, and that’s the difference between me and Chloe. I was willing to let Rachel go. I let her keep her secrets. I didn’t tie her down. She wanted to be with me? Great, wonderful. She wanted to leave? Good for fucking her. Not Chloe, though.”

Warren could almost picture her seething behind the closet door. 

“Either way, she’s fucking gone, so it doesn’t even matter. She’s gone and I lost my fingers and I’ll probably lose more, and I don’t give a fuck anymore. God, I just,” Frank’s voice began to waver. “I just wish I knew what happened to her. If I knew what happened, if I knew she was okay, I would have some peace.”

He looked at the gun he had aimed at Warren and lowered it. He raised his hand to press it against his eyes. “Fuck, what am I doing? This is—This is exactly why she left me, fuck!”

Warren realized then that Frank was sobbing. He felt ridiculously awkward. Him and Nathan exchanged a disturbed look, not knowing what to do at this turn of events. Warren took a hesitant step forward. “Um, it’s okay, you didn’t hurt anyone. Just. You know.” He looked back at Nathan for help, who shrugged at him uselessly.

The closet door opened and a red-faced Chloe emerged from it. Her eyes were wet. She gave Frank a look that would have killed lesser men. “Get out of my house, Frank.” She hissed through clenched teeth.

For a brief, glorious second, Warren actually thought they were going to get away with it. That Frank was pacified and sober and he would have apologized to Chloe, and left with his tail between his legs.

But Frank wasn’t so simple.

“I’m not leaving here without the money you owe me,” he said, and raised the gun once more.

“I don’t have it. I don’t know what you want me to say—I don’t have it!”

“That’s what I said and look what fucking happened!” Frank showed her his four fingers. Tears were running down his face. “This isn’t a fucking game, Chloe!”

“Frank, please!” Warren pleaded. “You don’t have to do this! We’ll—We’ll help you get the money—”

Frank whipped around to aim his pistol at Warren. “Like you were a big fucking help before! I’m sick of all you punks! I want my money, and I want my fingers back!”

Chloe took advantage of his distraction and reached around him to make a grab at his gun. Frank didn’t let go and they struggled with it briefly before the deafening sound of a shot rang into Warren’s ears. 

Chloe collapsed. 

“Oh no, oh _Christ. _I didn’t mean—this isn’t… Oh Jesus,” Frank stared at Chloe with abject horror as blood flowed from her stomach.__

Warren froze, jaw hanging. Next to him, Nathan dropped his own gun, and started shouting something. The gunshot was still ringing in Warren’s ears; he couldn’t understand what Nathan was saying. It wasn’t his first time at seeing death, but he never got used to the amount of blood involved. 

_“Warren!” _A harsh shove startled him.__

“What?” Asked Warren, dumbly.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?! _Go!”_

At first Warren didn’t know what Nathan was talking about and he only started at Chloe’s blood pool underneath his shoe, before Nathan slapped him hard on the back of his head. His time powers! Shit, he forgot! 

Warren rewound, but wasn’t fully recharged from earlier. He waited too long; the most he could manage was moments before Chloe grabbed Frank’s gun. 

“Like you were a big fucking help before!”

Warren looked around for something he could use.

“I’m sick of all you punks!”

He saw Chloe look at the gun, the idea popping in her head.

“I want my money, and I want my fingers back!”

Chloe reached for the gun.

Warren did the absolute stupidest thing. In the heat of the moment, he grabbed Nathan’s gun and threw it at Frank’s head. Fortunately for him, it was enough. Frank let go of the gun.

“Argh! You stupid shits!” He cried out.

Nathan quickly recovered the gun Warren had thrown and said, “You’re damn lucky that didn’t go off.”

Warren was still reeling from everything that happened to say anything back.

“I’m serious, Frank,” Chloe said. She had the gun now. Her voice was shaking from the adrenaline. “Get. Out.”

Frank assessed the situation; he was outnumbered, unarmed, and had two guns pointed at his chest. His shoulders slumped and he looked so, so tired. 

“Fine. You win. Keep the fucking money, I don’t give a shit anymore,” he said. He turned to Chloe. “I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again, you understand me? Get your fix somewhere else.” Chloe didn’t respond, only maintained a steel cold gaze. Frank walked down the stairs, defeated. Neither Nathan nor Chloe relaxed their guns until they heard Frank leave through the backyard.

Then, the three of them breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

“That was fucking wild,” said Chloe, wiping whatever tears were left with her wrist.

“Yeah, it was,” said Warren.

“The fuck were you thinking, Price?” Nathan asked.

“I didn’t know this would happen,” she said, looking down at the gun.

“Why didn’t you call the police?” Warren asked.

“And explain what? That I owed a drug dealer money?”

“She’s right, Warren,” Nathan said, then scrunched his nose when he realized what he just admitted. “This would have gotten worse if they knew Chloe was a druggie.”

“I only smoke pot, Prescock.”

He snorted derisively. “Must be a recent development. I remember your last year at Blackwell pretty well.”

Warren stopped them before it escalated. “Do you want us to stay until your parents get here?”

“I don’t think he’ll be coming back,” she said, and put away the gun in the small of her back. Then, she took a deep breath and turned to Warren. “Thanks. Seriously, I mean it. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come to save my ass.”

“I can think of a few things,” said Nathan.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Really? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but I also put my ass on the line.”

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t ask _you _to come here.”__

He didn’t know why, but Warren felt a surge of fondness and relief seeing them fight again. Like it finally hit him that the danger had passed and they all survived, and now his biggest problem was getting them not to yell at each other.

He hadn’t noticed he was laughing until Nathan and Chloe turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. It was kind of funny how alike they were, even if they would never admit it.

“What’s so funny?” Nathan asked.

“Nothing,” said Warren, wiping a tear from his eye. “Everything’s great. Come on, we should go. Call me if you need anything, Chloe.”

Nathan flipped Chloe off as he went down the stairs. She returned the gesture.

ooo

“So,” Nathan spoke as Warren drove. It was half past midnight. The power was out throughout the entirety of Arcadia Bay, and the streets were dark. Nathan had his feet propped up Warren’s dashboard, his gun resting on stop of his stomach. “How many times did we die?”

“Chloe died. Once,” Warren answered.

“How?”

“When she was struggling to take Frank’s gun. It went off and shot her right in the stomach.”

“That’s why you threw my gun at him?”

Warren smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“It worked. You’re lucky it worked.”

“Thanks,” Warren said. “You were really calm. Like, you handled yourself pretty well.”

“Are you shitting me?” Nathan ran his hand through his hair. “I was freaking out so bad, you have no idea.”

“It didn’t look that way.”

“Mission fucking accomplished, then.”

The power still hadn’t returned when they pulled up at Blackwell. With David Madsen back, security was at its peak. Warren and Nathan had to sneak back into the dorms as quietly as they could, or else they would be caught and penalized for breaking curfew.

It turned out Nathan was an expert at sneaking past security. He knew their rotations and blind spots. They returned to the dormitory without a hitch.

“Thanks, by the way.” Warren said once they were in front of their respective doors.

“For?”

“You didn’t have to help, but you did. Thanks for that.”

Nathan shrugged, nonchalant. “You would have gone with or without me. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get shanked or anything.”

Warren laid a hand over his heart and opened his jaw comically wide. “Aww, you like me.”

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t want me deaaad,” he teased in a sing-songy voice. “You _like _me and you don’t want me deaaad.”__

“Keep that up and you will be, trust me.”

“That hurts. After all the sacrifice you went through to keep me alive.”

Warren heard a snicker come from Nathan’s throat. “Just go the fuck to sleep, Graham.” Nathan went into his room and shut the door.

Warren couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he entered his own dorm. 

 

It slid off completely when he sat on the bed and saw his shoes, a red stain on the sole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you guys thought I forgot about Frank, huh? ;)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, as always I appreciate all of your kind support and every single one of your comments, bookmarks, and kudos!! :)


	13. On the Borderline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING** This chapter contains heavy ableism and some homophobia. If you are not comfortable with either of those things you can leave a message and I can give you a summary of what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Guess who's back! 
> 
> Sorry for the long hiatus, a lot of stuff's been happening, the big two being that I moved and officially graduated from college! Which is exciting, yet time consuming. Fortunately I'm back in action and updates should come more frequently again. Also I'm sorry for those commented on the fic and haven't received a reply. I've read and loved every single comment, it's just that sometimes I forget to reply and if it's been more than two days I get too embarassed, but I swear I appreciate them!
> 
> Anyway, back to the fic!

_October 15_

**[You, Today 12:14 PM] ******

_pineapples ___

**[Warren, Today 12:14 PM] ******

_Pineapples?? Thats obscene. An abomination. ___

**[You, Today 12:15 PM] ******

_u havent lived until u tried it. u look like a pineapples kinda guy ___

**[Warren, Today 12:15 PM] ******

_I have never been more insulted in the entirety of my life. ___

**[You, Today 12:15 PM] ******

_scratch that u look lik the kind of guy that wuld put ridiculus amounts of meat on a pizza nd call it good ___

**[Warren, Today 12:15 PM] ******

_As it should be!! ___

Nathan hadn’t stopped texting Warren since yesterday. Spending the day with his nose in his phone, waiting for Warren’s next message. None of the teachers had called him out on it yet, none of them ever dared, and he spent his classes with his legs propped up in his seat, not bothering to look up or pay any sort of attention.

**[Warren, Today 12:17 PM] ******

_What are you doing now? ___

**[You, Today 12:17 PM] ******

_@a vortex club meeting ___

Dana’s room was packed with Vortex Club members: Victoria, Nathan, Hayden, and Courtney were sitting on the couch; Zachary, Juliet, and Taylor on the bed; Logan sitting stiffly on a chair at the desk; Dana and, to everyone’s surprise, her boyfriend, were standing in front of a chalkboard Dana probably borrowed without asking, as she usually did.

“Okay, now that everyone’s here, let’s get started!” Dana declared with her ‘cheerleader’ voice.

Victoria and Nathan were usually the ones to plan the Vortex Club parties—a fact they prided themselves in—but when it came to Halloween, Dana ‘took the field’, as she would say it. She was easily the most excited person about Halloween on campus, and she was a good leader with good ideas, so neither of them minded passing the torch.

“This is Trevor, by the way, he has some really good ideas for this year’s Halloween Bash,” she introduced her boyfriend, who gave everyone a nervous ‘hey’. Nathan couldn’t see how or why they were together—the loser skater hippie with the head cheerleader—but Dana was one of those people that could get along with everyone. 

**[Warren, Today 12:17 PM] ******

_Oooh is this some kind of a secret session? ___

“As we all know, our ‘End of the Year’ party was cancelled since our beloved Kate passed, and Maxine went missing,” she said with a sombre tone. Victoria passed him a pizza slice. It was pepperoni. It reminded him of Warren. “But Halloween is a time that students from all cliques get together to have fun.”

“Yeah, and enough time has passed for people to get over what happened,” added Taylor.

“Not really what I meant, but sure,” said Dana. “Anyway, we were trying to come up with ideas for a venue. Then Trevor suggested that we haven’t used the previous venue, so why not do it there?” She added the words ‘School pool’ on the chalkboard.

“A Halloween party at a pool? There’s gonna be a lot of sexy mermaids, amiright?” Zachary said.

“Well, nobody would actually be getting in the pool. It _is _a costume party.”__

He crossed his arms and sunk back into the pillows he was resting on. “Lame.”

**[You, Today 12:18 PM] ******

_not rly. cumming up w/ ideas 4 the haloween partay ___

**[Warren, Today 12:18 PM] ******

_Get autocorrect. ___

**[You, Today 12:18 PM] ******

_fuck off ___

“And Trevor came up with a really great idea,” she prompted him to talk.

Trevor swallowed and began. “So, we were trying to come up with ideas to make the party stand out and I thought, hey, on the last party there was supposed to be a contest announcement, right?”

Nathan’s mouth dried and he reached for a soda. Everybody else hummed in acknowledgement. Victoria sank in her seat.

“Why not have another one? A costume contest. Best costume wins a prize. A 1982 Nikon camera,” Trevor took out a faded old camera. It looked like it had been taken care of, but still suffered the wears and tears of time. 

“1982? Why 1982?” Juliet asked.

“It was a donation,” he said. “Mark Jefferson’s first digital camera.”

Victoria’s eyes went as large as saucers, gazing at the camera with absolute adoration. The rest of the room began talking animatedly. 

“It works, but obviously, it’s not as good as modern cameras, so I wouldn’t use it for class. Anyway, winner gets it. Second place gets a cash prize.”

“I have to have it,” Victoria told Nathan under her breath.

Trevor wrote down ‘costume contest’ and ‘prizes!!’ on the chalkboard and passed the chalk back to Dana. He put Jefferson’s camera away. 

“We thought that’d get your attention,” said Dana. “Now that that's said, we need flyers to put around the campus.”

**[You, Today 12:20 PM] ******

_theres gonna be a contest_  
_best costume wins_

**[Warren, Today 12:20 PM] ******

_I’m in!!! I’m all ABOUT Halloween! ___

**[You, Today 12:20 PM] ******

_ur gonna hav sum intense competition ___

“Other than that, we still need to come up with ideas so that the party’s epic. We especially got to work the Halloween theme. Any ideas?”

“Yeah, I have one,” Logan spoke up. “What would it take to get some strippers up in here?”

Nathan scoffed. “The kind of stripper that would go to a high school is not the kind I want on my lap.”

“What if they, like, jump from a cake? Like in the movies.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “It’s a Halloween party. Why would we have a giant cake?” 

“No strippers!” Dana said, writing it on the board and underlining it. “Let’s try to keep it PG-13.”

“What about spooky skeletons? Like, all over the place,” Courtney suggested.

“Yeah, that’s a given. We were thinking about something more original.”

Nathan tuned out the conversation, returning to his phone. 

**[You, Today 12:21 PM] ******

_theyre tryin to come up with ideas but every1 sux ___

**[Warren, Today 12:21 PM] ******

_Where’s it gonna be? ___

**[You, Today 12:22 PM] ******

_the pool like the party that got canclled. ___

Warren wasn’t replying to that. Typing something, then erasing it, then typing it again, then erasing. Nathan stared at the three dots come and go on his phone, wondering what was going through his mind.

“We could hire someone to scare people as they come in,” Hayden suggested.

“That’s a good one,” Dana wrote it down on the board.

**[Warren, Today 12:25 PM] ******

_What about putting dry ice in the pool? ___

**[You, Today 12:25 PM] ******

_dry ice? ___

**[Warren, Today 12:25 PM] ******

_Yeah, it’s not like regular ice, it’s a form of solid gas that evaporates as it melts. ___

**[You, Today 12:25 PM] ******

_i kno what dry ice is ___

“A haunted house? Maybe we could take some of the rooms and turn them into a scary maze or something,” Courtney spoke up.

“That’s a little more complicated, but I like it, so I’m going to put it up for discussion later,” Dana wrote it on the board with a star next to the name.

“Pumpkin launching,” Zachary said, motioning wildly. “We get this giant slingshot and we _launch _pumpkins over the—”__

“And get the entire Vortex Club in trouble?” Juliet stepped in. “That can be seriously dangerous.”

“We wouldn’t get in trouble,” said Taylor. “But I don’t know if it’s appropriate for a Halloween party.”

“I’m down for launching pumpkins,” Hayden said.

Trevor shrugged. “We’ll probably have a lot of carved pumpkins lying around after the party so maybe we could—” 

“Guys, we’re getting off track,” Dana interrupted.

**[Warren, Today 12:26 PM] ******

_If you dunk enough of them in a heated pool it would create the most awesomest fog effect. ___

**[You, Today 12:26 PM] ******

_will it kill ppl? ___

**[Warren, Today 12:26 PM] ******

_As long as nobody swims in it nd there’s ventilation it’s okay. ___

**[You, Today 12:26 PM] ******

_how much would we need ___

**[Warren, Today 12:26 PM] ******

_About a hundred pounds I think. Maybe more. ___

**[You, Today 12:27 PM] ******

_where am i gonna get 100lbs of dry ice??? ___

**[Warren, Today 12:27 PM] ******

_I know a guy. ___

Nathan had to admit, crazy as it was, it was a good idea. “How about dry ice?”

Everyone turned to look at him with varying degrees of confusion.

“What about dry ice?” Juliet asked.

“We dump it in the pool, and it’ll make a fog. It won’t kill anyone as long as no one swims in it and we keep the doors and windows open.”

“I like it,” said Dana. “What do you guys think?”

“We could probably put some in the drinks too. It’ll look rad as hell,” said Trevor.

Everyone seemed onboard with the idea and Dana wrote it down on the board. “Okay, any more ideas?” 

**[You, Today 12:28 PM] ******

_they like it ___

ooo

 

The sudden flash of a camera irritated Nathan’s eyes. Though the lens wasn’t aimed at him—the camera would be broken by now if it was—he still felt annoyed by all the amateur modelling the girls in the class were doing. Nathan felt a sort of smug superiority at how professional his shoots were in the studio, compared to the faux models he had in his class anyway. And none of them could match up to Rachel no matter how hard they tried.

**[Warren, Today 2:27 PM] ******

_I see the words “pop” and “quiz” written on the board today. The worst words invented by humankind. ___

**[You, Today 2:27 PM] ******

_wow sux 2 b U_  
_idk why youre so afraid arent U like a nerd or sumthin_

**[Warren, Today 2:27 PM] ******

_It’s English. ___

**[You, Today 2:28 PM] ******

_so????_  
_english is ez U speak it everday_

**[Warren, Today 2:28 PM] ******

_Says the guy who can barely get two words out right through text. ___

**[You, Today 2:28 PM] ******

_il hav u kno i can type it fine tyvm i jus dont wanna ___

**[Warren, Today 2:29 PM] ******

_I’m going to fail. It’s all over for me. It was nice knowing you. ___

**[You, Today 2:29 PM] ******

_rest in pieces brah ___

**[Warren, Today 2:29 PM] ******

_Seriously though, I’m fucked. With this and the Chemistry test tomorrow and the History homework and the Spanish essay… I’m really swamped. Oh, and Calculus. You can’t forget Calculus. ___

**[You, Today 2:29 PM] ******

_i feel u ___

“Off the desks, class is about to start,” Jefferson said as he entered the room, students reluctantly following his instructions. “I know you love me, but everyone who is not in this class beat it.”

**[Warren, Today 2:30 PM] ******

_Hey! I got an idea. ___

**[You, Today 2:32 PM] ******

_shoot ___

“Nathan, put your phone away. You’ll have plenty of time to text after you tell me which technique can be used to achieve chiaroscuro.”

Nathan grumbled, but grudgingly set his phone facedown on the desk. Jefferson was the only teacher that wasn’t afraid to call him out in class, and the only one Nathan couldn’t tear him apart for. 

“Rembrandt lighting,” Nathan drawled.

“Very good. Now, if I asked you to do it, how would you?”

Nathan pretended to take a moment to think about it. Chiaroscuro and shadows were his specialty, according to Jefferson. He felt the phone vibrate underneath his hand. “I would put the key light pointing at one side of the subject’s face and a fill light at the other side to make the triangle appear there.”

“Excellent. Nathan has been doing his research,” Jefferson said, turning to the rest of the class. “Rembrandt lighting is a technique invented by a Dutch painter of the same name…”

Nathan remembered the lecture. It was one of the first he’d heard.

 

_Click! ___

_“Wonderful Nathan, that’s really beautiful,” said Jefferson admiring his work. _____

_Nathan’s neck made a cracking sound at how fast he whipped his head. That wasn’t a phrase he heard often, if ever. “...Really?” He asked, wary._

_“Do you know what you just did?” ___

_The question caught Nathan a little off guard. He didn’t think he’d done anything. “Well, I moved the lights around.”_

_“This is Rembrandt. See the triangle by her cheek? It’s a technique used for chiaroscuro where one side of the face is illuminated and the other is kept completely in shadow, save that one spot next to her nose,” Jefferson took a shot. “I don’t use it that often, if I’m being honest. It makes round faces appear sharp, and makes a subject look older, in my opinion. Regardless, it’s still a beautiful technique.” ___

_A smile twitched at the corner of Nathan’s lips. He moved his face away from the light to hide it. “Thanks,” he said. ___

_“She’s waking up. Are you ready?” ___

_Nathan sucked in an anxious breath and held up his camera. ___

 

_Bzzt! _The second vibration of his phone brought Nathan out of his reverie. When he made sure Jefferson wasn’t looking, he took a peek at the message.__

**[Warren, Today 2:32 PM] ******

_We both have a pile of hw to do because of the days we missed, right? We should study together and divide the work. ___

**[Warren, Today 2:37 PM] ******

_Anyway, I got the quiz now. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it. ___

Nathan figured he could spare a quick response.

**[You, Today 2:37 PM] ******

_GL ___

Crackling static and a high-pitched noise brought the class’ attention to the intercom. _“Mark Jefferson to Principal Wells’s office. Mark Jefferson to Principal Wells’s office.” ___

“I hope it’s not detention,” Jefferson chuckled, “I’ll be back quickly. I know it can be a drag, but in the meantime start reading the chapter. I’m going to ask you about it when I get back so try to brush up.”

Like hell Nathan was going to read the chapter. He didn’t have to look around the classroom to know everybody was thinking the same thing.

**[You, Today 2:40 PM] ******

_& yeah that sounds gud im all about having nerds do all the work for me ___

His phone vibrated much sooner than he expected, before he could put it down. And then it vibrated again, and again. 

He groaned when he realized it was a phone call.

From his father.

Fuck, he really didn’t want to deal with his father. 

Nobody paid any attention to him as he left the room, phone gripped tightly in his hand. The hallways were empty and he picked a dark corner.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan picked up the phone. “Yo.”

“Hello, son. How was school?”

“Fine, you know. Classes and shit. We’re planning the Halloween Bash and that’s going fine.”

“That’s good to hear. Let me know if you need anything.”

“So, what’s up?”

“I called to remind you of your appointment with Dr. Bill on Saturday at 1.”

Fuck. Nathan gripped the phone tightly, a worm of anxiety crawling in his brain. “Can’t I just go back to seeing Dr. Carter? Or Dr. Bailey?”

Sean’s tone turned harsh over the phone. “You will no longer be seeing Dr. Carter or Bailey. We’ve talked about this before, my decision is final. Dr. Bill is the only one that can help you.”

“Dr. Bill is a hack,” said Nathan, spitting on the receiver. “All he cares about is money, he doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“And you think Carter and Bailey give a shit about you? It’s their job, you’re no more special to them than the hundreds of other schizophrenics they see on a monthly basis.”

Every word pierced through Nathan’s skull, weighing on his brain and causing his eyes to water. “They’re better than fucking Bill! He just wants to keep me doped up on pills—oh wait, I forgot, that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it, fucker?”

“You watch your fucking tongue and remember your place. The fact that you’ve been jumping from therapist to therapist is no one’s fault but your own. We need to control your temper, and whatever fucked up shit is going on in your brain. I got you the most respected therapist and psychiatrist in the entire country because I care about you, but you throw it back at my face.”

Guilt, anger, and everything in between settled in Nathan’s stomach. His thoughts were at war with themselves, and he found himself at a loss on what to say. Sean continued, “You are going to see Dr. Bill on Saturday and he will decide what the next step is in your recovery. But right now I need you to cooperate. Do you understand, son?”

It hurt to swallow. “Yeah,” Nathan answered, his voice hollow. 

“Good. You should come home more often, your mother misses you.”

“I will.”

Sean hung up. Nathan wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket. His fingers had turned white from how hard he gripped at his phone. With a cry of rage, he threw it at a nearby locker, hearing a loud, satisfying _clunk! _He eyed the dent it left with a sense of empty satisfaction.__

“Nathan? Are you okay?”

Mark Jefferson. Mark fucking Jefferson looked at him with—fuck, Nathan didn’t know, pity? Disgust? Contempt? He could never tell what really lied under the mask—concerned eyes, hand half-stretched towards him. 

“Am I okay? Of course I’m okay. I’m so fucking okay you have no idea,” Nathan snarled in response, walking past Jefferson. 

But Jefferson’s hand stopped him, gentle but firm on his shoulder. “Come to class,” he said.

“I don’t want to go to fucking class,” Nathan tried shoving the hand away from him, but Jefferson’s grip only became stronger.

“You should,” he said, deceptively gentle. Nathan seethed under his stare. “We can talk after class.”

Jefferson let his shoulder go and opened the door to the classroom, motioning for Nathan to go inside. Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets and walked in, gaze burning into the floor.

“Okay! I hope all of you read the chapter because it’s time for a pop quiz!” Pause for effect. “Just kidding, but who can tell me the main themes of Lange’s work during the Great Depression?”

ooo

Two hours later the bell rang. Jefferson reminded everyone of assignments and tests as they filed out of the classroom. Nathan stayed in his seat in the front of the room, scribbling on a piece of paper. He hadn’t done much except sulk during the period. 

“Can I go?” Nathan asked, looking down at his artwork. It was supposed to be his father, but the angry marks were edged deep into the paper. The pen had scratched through in a few places.

Jefferson, who was standing behind his desk, stopped putting papers away. He gave him an inquisitive look and removed his glasses. He looked so open, so genuine without them. But it was all fucking fake. “What’s going on?” He asked.

Nathan shrugged. “You don’t care, so what’s the point?”

A click of his tongue, a furrow of his brow. Jefferson was too fucking good. He stepped around the desk, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt. Small details that reminded him of Sean. “I care,” was all he said. Was all he needed to say to get him hooked near the beginning. It wasn’t so easy anymore.

“No, you fucking don’t. Not even my own dad cares about me, so why should you?” Nathan snapped, slamming the pen on the table. 

A soundless exhale of his nose. “Your father is a jackass—pardon my French—his treatment towards you doesn’t extend to me. I’ve always cared. You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age.”

Jefferson had mentioned that before, but Nathan never believed him. It was Mark fucking Jefferson; good-looking, charming, patient, famous Mark Jefferson. And he was Nathan Prescott, resident dipshit. Nathan rolled his eyes and sunk into his chair. “Sure, uh-huh.”

Jefferson’s laugh startled him for a moment. “No, really. I was angry, lost, and I hated anyone and everyone. Especially my parents.”

“My dad keeps throwing psychiatrists and pills at me, hoping they could ‘fix’ me. He’s making me see Dr. Bill again,” Nathan explained, and understanding flashed in Jefferson’s expression. Nathan had complained about the man in the past, and expressed how relieved he was when he had gone on the book tour. “Did your parents ever do that?”

Jefferson gave a chuckle, but it was without mirth. “No, my parents didn’t believe in psychology or any of that crap. They called in a priest instead.” At Nathan’s wide-eyed expression, Jefferson smirked. “But this isn’t a competition. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been there. Listen,” he leaned on the desk at the center, where he usually taught, his body turned to the window so he was facing Nathan, “I know this can sound embarrassing or awkward, but I know you see me as sort of a father figure to you.”

Nathan opened his mouth to retort, his cheeks hot, but Jefferson held up a hand to silence him. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s more common than you think. I’ve mentioned before that I do see you as the son I’ve never had, and I stand by that. I care for you deeply, Nathan. However, I know that because of that, you see a lot of your father in me.” 

Nathan stared at him tight-lipped. Jefferson continued. “I am not Sean. I only ever want to help you. I have been helping you. After what happened with Rachel you have to know that I’m on your side.”

Nathan’s back straightened at the mention of Rachel. What, what, _what_ was Jefferson talking about? It had been eating him up inside, ever since they found out about Tall, Dark, and Handsome. No matter how much he tried to ignore it. Nathan wanted to ask, had to. “Mark, about Rachel—”

Jefferson interrupted him with a raised hand and a comforting smile. “You don’t have to worry about that, Nathan. I will protect you, no matter what.”

Oh no. Oh God no. Nathan was shocked into silence. He didn't know what Jefferson was talking about, but the implications were too clear to ignore. Thoughts were running a million miles per hour inside his head, turning into white noise. His body turned cold. Jefferson didn’t hurt Rachel.

He was dismissed with a smile and words of encouragement, and Nathan never felt so numb.

ooo

White noise filled his skull as Nathan pushed everything to the back of his mind. There was a long crack running down the center of his phone. Nathan didn’t have the capacity to regret throwing it. His eye caught a missing person poster—one of the remaining few about Rachel, the rest had been replaced by Max’s—and he could feel a crack in his mental dam begin to form. 

_Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, _he repeated to himself over and over again, trying to will the thoughts away. It wasn’t working.__

Nathan jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket. 

**[Warren, Today 4:56 PM] ******

_Yeap. Pretty sure I bombed it. I’m going to jail. ___

**[Warren, Today 4:56 PM] ******

_And I think it’s funny how you think I’m going to carry you through your homework. ___

Nathan didn’t laugh. Didn’t really feel anything.

**[You, Today 4:57 PM] ******

_ur right i dont think i can trust somoene who failed his english quiz ___

**[Warren, Today 4:57 PM] ******

_That’s hurtful Nathan. I’m hurt. ___

**[Warren, Today 4:57 PM] ******

_ANYWAY, if youre serious about studying, meet me in my dorm around six. ___

**[Warren, Today 4:57 PM] ******

_But only if you’re serious!! ___

Nathan didn’t give a shit whether he went or not but needed the distraction. Badly. If he left himself alone with his thoughts then he just might go crazy. Crazier than he already was, anyhow. And Warren. Warren made him happy. 

 

By six, Nathan had managed to distract himself enough that he felt a little better. Weed did wonders for his anxiety. 

Which is how he found himself standing in front of Warren’s room, holding a cardboard box with pizza inside. Half meat lovers, half pineapple. He raised his hand to knock, but stopped himself when he heard voices coming from inside.

_“You should come home for dinner someday, I finally learned how to make lasagna.” ___

_“You mean you learned to put it on a tray so it doesn’t stick to the oven?” ___

_“Yeah, I still can’t get the smell of burnt cheese out of there…” ___

Nathan wasn’t an eavesdropper, not really. The door that he had his ear pressed against was just too thin. 

_“How’s school going?” ___

There was a telling pause. _“It’s fine. Great, actually.” ___

_“So, not that good?” ___

_“How could you tell?” ___

_“You’re playing with your fingers.” ___

_“Oh.” ___

Nathan recognized one voice as Warren, so the other must be his father. He did mention his car was getting confiscated for ‘underage drinking’. That poor fuck. He wanted to step away from the door, to avoid hearing the unavoidable scolding that was going to come, but he couldn’t stop himself from listening. _You hurt Rachel._ Numbness trickling slowly away, replaced by an odd feeling of dread.

_“What’s going on, Warr?” ___

A sigh. _“I’m not doing so well in my classes right now. A lot of stuff’s happening and I’ve missed a few days, and, I dunno. I just haven’t kept focus.” ___

_“That’s alright, son. You’re the smartest pickle I know, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your dad. God knows I was a slacker in school. Couldn’t keep my nose in a book for two seconds without dozing off. I can’t blame you if you get distracted. Grades don’t mean anything anyhow. You’re still a smart cookie.” ___

_“Thanks, dad. I’m just worried about the scholarship. And, you know, college.” ___

Warren’s dad scoffed. _“Any college that doesn’t accept you isn’t worth their salt. It’s clearly run by monkeys.” ___

He heard Warren chuckle. _“Monkeys are smarter than you think.” ___

_“And as for the scholarship, well, we’ll use that big brain of yours and work something out.” ___

That was... not what Nathan expected. After Warren mentioned his dad confiscated his car, he expected someone more strict. No nonsense. Someone who pushed.

He heard footsteps approach the door and he bolted it to his room, pizza thrown forgotten on the bed. Nathan left the door slightly ajar so he could peek and see Warren’s father leave the room. 

His father was tall, broad-shouldered and heavy. A kind face that vaguely resembled Warren’s underneath a bushy beard. He had brown hair that fell down to his shoulders; like Warren’s, but longer. 

“Don’t worry, son.” He placed a hand on Warren’s shoulder. “It won’t be for long.”

“I really didn’t drink,” Warren whined.

“I believe you. Really, I do,” Warren’s dad removed his hand from his shoulder and sunk them in his pockets. “But _somebody _drank and you let that happen, and, well,” one of his hands moved to rub at the back of his neck and their resemblance really hit Nathan then, “you know. I’m tryin’a be a good dad. And that means discipline.”__

“You’re a good dad, you don’t have to keep putting yourself down.”

“Yeah, I know. Promise you’ll visit?” Warren’s dad spread his arms for a hug.

“I’ll visit,” said Warren, closing in on the hug.

It was a tender moment, until his father’s grip tightened on Warren’s body and he lifted him up into the air. _You are disgusting. No one wants to touch you._ Warren breathlessly laughed while struggling, his legs kicking in the air. 

“Dad, put me down!” Warren wheezed.

“Okay!” His dad said and released Warren, who stumbled on his feet at the sudden drop. “You’re getting heavier. That’s good, that’s good. Ever think of taking up a sport?”

“Gross. No way.”

It was a very personal and touching moment and Nathan couldn’t help but feel that he was intruding. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. The mental dam overflowed. Nathan couldn’t remember the last time his father had given him a hug, if ever. And they just did it so casually, so fun, so warm. No yelling, no anger, no resentment. 

“Don’t worry about a thing, Warr. Just keep doin’ what you’re doing and everything will work itself out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Bye, dad.”

_Your father hates you._ Was that why Warren is so optimistic and happy all the time? Why he turned out to be so fucking okay? _Mark thinks you’re a loser._ Or was it the other way around? Was it him? Because he was so fucked up mentally _You are a loser._ everyone hated him for being such a fucking burden. It would make sense. Nathan liked it when things made sense. 

Warren didn’t hate him. _He knows._ So there must be _Rachel knows what you did to her._ some good in him. Or Warren was just so precious and pure that he didn’t know what a fuckup Nathan was yet. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

**[Warren, Today 6:07 PM] ******

_Sooo? Are you serious yet? ___

Nathan did want to go see Warren. Very badly. He took a moment to compose himself. Breathe deeply. Put on the best poker face that seven years of mental breakdowns have earned him. 

ooo

He knocked on Warren’s door again, similar to earlier, except now the pizza was closer to lukewarm. Warren opened the door in a second, trademark grin in place. “Hey, Nate. Whoa is that,” he gasped for effect, as he usually did, _“pizza?”_

 _Say something sarcastic,_ he told himself. “No, it’s my dick in a box. Merry Christmas.”

Warren took the box from his hands, said, “Don’t be gross,” and led him in the room. A twin bed with a thick striped comforter that trailed to the floor was pushed against the wall. Outdated posters from, like, Hot Topic covered the walls. In front of the window was a writing desk which was mostly cleared out, save a moth-eaten galaxy lamp and one of those portable box television sets no one used anymore. On the other end of the wall was a bookcase, full to the brim with comic books and figurines.

It was cleaner than the last time he was there, and Nathan wanted to think that it was because he was coming over. Too bad he wasn’t worth the effort.

“Pineapple?” Warren tsked. 

_He hates it. _“Fuck off,” Nathan caught himself saying.__

“Not judging, not judging. Pineapple’s just not my thing. I prefer sausage.”

It took Nathan a second. His laugh came out in odd spurts and he could barely get the words out in between them. _“Sausage you say? _Maybe I should have put my dick in the box. I didn’t know you’d be disappointed.”__

Warren’s laugh was more contained, soft. He took a slice of the meat lovers’ and bit into it. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, you dork.”

“You totally did that on purpose,” said Nathan, his laugh ending in an awkward choking noise.

Warren shrugged, talked through the food in his mouth. “You looked down. Dick jokes are nature’s medicine. That’s a fact. You wanna talk about it, though?”

Nathan didn’t deserve Warren. That was the issue. What was gnawing at him on the inside. “I’m not one of your science experiments, Warren. Don’t analyze me,” he snapped. For no good reason, he snapped. His mind felt like it was split in two. The half that wanted to keep Warren, formed an apology. The half that wanted to push Warren away, kept it lodged in his throat.

“I’m not analyzing you,” answered Warren, reaching for another slice. Pineapple. _Stop him, it’s poisoned. _“I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I know crazy shit’s been happening and I don’t blame you if you get overwhelmed. Just, you know, I’m here to talk.”__

Nathan pursed his lips, and rolled his shoulders, stretching from the usual hunched position he kept. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, took a slice of meat lovers to make it even. _Don’t eat it, you’ll die. ___

“So, what do you want to do first? Is History okay?” Warren pulled out the big-ass World History book from his bag and settling on the chair.

“Whatthefuckever.”

 

The desk didn’t feel too cramped, but if Nathan leaned a few inches to the right they would be knocking shoulders. At the distance that they were, he could almost feel the heat radiating from Warren. The study session wasn’t a quiet one, full of jokes and comments and distractions, something Nathan’s tired mind was grateful for. 

Still, not even Warren could make homework _fun, _and Nathan found his attention drifting. His phone rang and Nathan apprehensively reached to pick it up. The caller ID was blank, but the sound was still there which meant that great, it probably broke when he threw it earlier.__

He answered the phone anyway, but there was nothing but static. He hung up with a grumble. 

“You okay?” Warren asked.

“Phone’s busted,” answered Nathan, placing the phone back on the desk face down. 

Warren made a noncommittal noise and returned to his work. They were doing English, which was why he was in such a reserved mood. Nathan didn’t have to take English, given that Ms. Hoida took a leave of absence, but he helped Warren nonetheless. With the condition that Warren would share his chemistry notes for the test.

He was tapping his pencil against the paper when his phone rang once again. With an eyeroll and a groan, he reached to pick it up. 

"Hello?" He asked, and waited, but still there was no answer.

"Asshole," he muttered under his breath, directed to whomever called. 

His eyes eventually directed themselves to look at Warren. He was writing a long paragraph, a small crease in his brow for concentration, his body curved over the desk. His phone rang again, but he decided to ignore it. 

The sun had long set, the only thing giving them light being the moon and the galaxy lamp by Warren’s side. Nathan admired the shadows that played on Warren’s features and the way the light reflected on his eyes, giving them a warm earthen hue. He would be a good subject for photography. Warren bit his lip and ran his hand over his hair in frustration. Nathan’s eyes followed the arc of motion with undivided attention. He swallowed, then realized he’d been staring for an uncomfortably long time, and he forced his gaze back to the notebook in front of him. 

“God, you’re such a fucking faggot,” said Warren.

Nathan dropped his pencil and whipped his head up to look at him in surprise. Red hot anger flashed through his chest. “What the fuck did you fucking call me, you fucking punk?” He hissed. 

Warren lifted his head to look at Nathan. "I didn't say anything."

Nathan was about to argue when he noticed that Warren looked honest-to-god confused. It suddenly hit him what happened. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. He turned away, the tip of his ears turning red from embarrassment. 

"Oh," he said. "Okay. Sorry."

Fuck. Great. Now he had to watch out for Warren’s voice too. Fucking perfect. How the fuck was he supposed to act normal when one of the voices sounded like Warren?

Nathan had been hearing the hallucinations for a while now. They were all tangible, all realistic, but that was all they were: hallucinations. Voices. It was annoying at best, nerve-wracking at worst, but he could usually tell what it was and ignore it. For the past few minutes he actually thought it was done and over with. _Just act normal,_ he reminded himself. Warren couldn’t find out. Kind as he was, he would abandon Nathan once he learned he was a freak. Nathan’s anxiety spiked up. _How can you fake being normal if you haven’t been normal a day in your life?_ His hands started twitching.

"What’s the central point of Pride and Prejudice?" Warren asked.

Nathan couldn't tell if it was real or not, so he glanced at Warren through his peripheral vision. Warren was looking straight at him, pen poised on his notebook. Nathan looked at his own notes. They weren't very coherent. His phone rang again, much louder than before.

“It’s, uh,” Nathan swallowed again, _You don’t know, do you? You’re an idiot. _his throat suddenly becoming dry. “Pride and prejudice. L-Like the central themes are pride and prejudice. And love and marriage and that kind of bullshit.”__

Warren frowned. “Are you okay?”

_I told you. He knows. You’re an idiot. You’re ugly. Rachel is gone because of you. Call your mother. No, don’t. She hates you too._ “Yeah,” he answered. _He knows you’re lying. About what? Everything._

“You’re shaking,” Warren turned in his chair to face Nathan. 

Nathan couldn’t think. Everything was _Hide it. You have to hide it. He’ll beat you if you don’t._ happening so much and leaving him overwhelmed and the _The weather is fucked because of you._ phone just kept fucking ringing and he couldn’t think everything was just so loud and—

A warm hand on his arm. “Nathan, what’s wrong?”

He wanted to throw it, smash it, destroy it, anything just to get it to stop fucking ringing. _You’re worthless._ “I n-need a favor,” he was stuttering, stumbling through his words just as he was stumbling through his mind, trying to think of something coherent. “The gym. My locker, there’s,” _Wow, you really are an idiot. You can’t even put two words together._ “um, there’s some bottles. Orange. I need you to—”

“On it,” Warren said, and bolted out the door.

He tried so hard to act normal. To ignore it, just like his father told him to. And he was doing so _well,_ too. He almost fooled Warren into thinking he wasn’t fucked in the head. _You weren’t even close to that and you know it._ Almost. _You’re so fucking pathetic. Fucking psycho._ Nathan settled his twitching fingers between his thighs. 

The phone kept ringing and Nathan put it inside the drawer. The sound was muffled, and vibrated against the wood of the desk. He laid his head on it, waiting for Warren to come back. _He’s more than you deserve, faggot._

And come back he did, out of breath and faster than it would have taken someone to run from the dormitories to the gym. Nathan suspected he used his powers to cheat. _The weather is after you; it’s going to kill you._

"Here," Warren said. "Y-You're out of Diazepam, by the way." Warren showed him the empty bottle.

Nathan shrugged and took the other one. Fuck, he hated Risperidone. 

"It's not going to help," whispered a voice beyond the walls. 

"Shut up," he whispered back, then kicked himself for it. To Warren, the room was extremely quiet. To Warren, he was just talking to himself.

But Warren didn't say anything, just stared at him nervously, playing with the cuticles of his fingers. 

"Do you um," Warren spoke up, Nathan saw his lips move, "do you need anything else?”

Nathan took a pill and pressed it against the roof of his mouth, waiting for it to dissolve. He pressed his fingertips against his forehead, as if he was warding off a headache. His gaze met Warren’s. Concerned, scared. “Was my phone ringing?” Nathan asked.

Warren looked at him, really _looked_ at him, like he was trying to discern whether it would be better to spare Nathan of the truth so they could pretend this was just some freak migraine instead of the psychotic episode it really was. Nathan really wanted him to lie. 

But Warren. Warren was too honest. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Shit.”

They sat in silence for a while (well, silence for Warren. The voices hadn’t shut up yet.), waiting for the pills to kick in. Nathan couldn’t stand seeing Warren there, quiet and awkward, not knowing what to do. But Nathan didn’t want to be alone either. So they sat there. Quiet.

“So,” Warren eventually broke the silence, too jittery to endure it for more than a few minutes. “Risperidone?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said.

“How does it work?”

“It uh,” Nathan started feeling the effects. “It’s an antipsychotic. Stops the, uh,” he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the topic, “hallucinations. Mellows me out. Makes me fucking sleepy.”

“What about Diazepam? That sounds familiar. I think I’ve heard the name before.”

“Anxiety. Not a fan of taking Benzos recreationally, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Warren stared at the label of the empty orange bottle. “No, it’s something else. Wait. Does this treat muscle spasms?”

“Think so.”

“Yeah, I had to take some of these when I was a kid. I got infected once and had really intense spasms and had to go to the hospital.”

Nathan’s lids felt heavy. “No shit?”

Warren thumbed over the bottle. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. It’s a really long story and I don’t like talking about it.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you okay? You look really, well, you look kind of stoned actually.”

“I’m fine. They’re gone,” Nathan said, getting up from the chair.

“The hallucinations?” Warren stood up too, grabbed Nathan’s elbow to keep him steady.

“Yeah, the hallucinations. Fuck,” Nathan felt slow. Everything was slow. Maybe he had time powers too. Slow-motion powers. That would be cool. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Makin’ you deal with this shit.”

“It’s okay,” said Warren. “I’m your friend. This is what friends do.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Warren took a deep breath and softly edged Nathan on to cross the room. “Come on. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“You’re so good to me.”

Warren released a chuckle that almost sounded sad, “I know.”

Soft pillows hit Nathan’s head and he realized he was horizontal. Red glows and a projector. He was in his room. When did he get there? 

“Get some sleep, okay?” Warren said, shutting the door softly.

Nathan shifted underneath the blankets, his feet were cold. Warren took his shoes off? That was nice of him. He turned on his side to look at the radio. Lifted his arm, heavy, to press the button. Whale songs played from the receiver, and he drifted to sleep.


	14. Negative Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got longer than I thought it would. But a little birdie told me you guys like that, so enjoy!

_October 16_

_“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice mailing system. Please try again later.”_

Warren sighed and hung up the call. That was his, what, fifth attempt at reaching Tall, Dark, and Handsome? It would help if the person had a voicemail, maybe he could have left a message or recognized his voice in the recording. As it was, he was left completely in the dark regarding his identity. 

He’d read most of the messages between them as well, but still, nothing that would tip him off. The most that he learned was that he was from Blackwell and had a photography studio. All things which _should_ have narrowed his search down, except that Rachel had been a year above them, so Tall, Dark, and Handsome would have graduated by now. They took class together for sure, if their ‘I’ll see you in class’ texts were anything to go by. 

But while he learned virtually nothing about Tall, Dark, and Handsome, boy did he learn things about Rachel. He had pushed his guilt aside about going through her phone with the goal of finding her, and hit the goldmine. 

Rachel had been described to him as a chameleon, able to get along with anyone and everyone. Reading her texts, Warren knew it was true. She made sure that every connection she had meant something. Rachel didn’t believe in ‘casual acquaintances’, every person had a personal relationship with Rachel, whether they were friends or enemies.

But like a chameleon, it was all an illusion.

In one text she was sexting with someone called ‘Sexy Beast’, and in the meantime she was bad mouthing him to a ‘Photo Master’ (whomever that was). Another text told someone she couldn’t hang out with them because she had to study, while she was on her way to a party. People liked Rachel, confided in her, but she kept them at arm’s length. 

And Nathan. Oh man, Nathan. Warren regretted reading the texts. In fact, he’d quit halfway through, the knowledge that he was intruding on Nathan’s personal life crushing whatever curiosity he initially had. All he learned was that it was more than just ‘fucking’, Nathan had been head over heels for Rachel. 

They had a falling out. Warren didn’t know the story behind it; all he knew was that their dynamic changed drastically in the span of one day. Nathan had texted Rachel daily, and their conversations were friendly and warm, if a bit one-sided at times. It all changed after April 6th, just two weeks before her disappearance. After that, they hardly texted at all; when they did the messages were cold, detached. 

Warren wanted to know what happened. Badly. But not only did it have nothing to do with the investigation, it felt like he had been invading Nathan’s privacy. Warren already felt like shit, there was no reason to have Nathan feel the same. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship just because he was being nosy.

He fished for his own phone then, setting Rachel’s down on the desk. The glow of the screen stared at him, and his finger hovered over the message icon. He was worried sick about Nathan. After what happened the night before, he had been searching for the words he could say to him. He was still reeling over everything that happened.

Warren wasn’t stupid, he knew Nathan had mental issues, he just didn’t know they were that bad. But he hadn’t been put off by it, not for a second. Nevertheless, he was worried as hell and didn’t know where to start. Last night’s research was strewn all over his desk, half-coherent scribbles on mental disorders and coping mechanisms that had kept him up until the AM hours.

 _A simple message would do,_ he thought to himself, and sent a short text. 

**[You, Today 7:33 AM]**

_Hey, are you feeling better?_

Yeah, that was fine. He’d reread it about a hundred times, deleting it, rewriting it, changing the grammar, adding and removing emojis, and whatnot. 

Minutes passed without a reply. Warren reassured himself that it was fine, Nathan was probably still sleeping. It was okay. 

ooo

Hours later, Nathan still hadn’t replied. They’d passed each other in the hallways between classes; their eyes would meet for a split second before Nathan broke the gaze. He looked better than the day before, which eased Warren’s nerves. If Nathan needed space, Warren would give it to him. 

 

After school, Warren found himself sitting cross-legged on Stella’s floor, folding and sorting through her clothes, helping her pack for the trip.

“Is it possible to feel excited and mortified at the same time?” She said as she folded a shirt.

“That’s called being anxious, totally normal,” said Warren.

She stared starry-eyed at the ‘Everyday Heroes’ poster she taped to her wall. “I mean, I’m going to be with Mr. Jefferson and all the other art elites with my photograph hanging in a gallery! I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”

Warren gave her a warm smile. “Hyperventilate all you want, you deserve it.”

She had a glint in her eye then and said, “You know, me and Mr. Jefferson are going to be alone. In a _hotel._ Can you imagine? He wakes up in the morning, after having slept in nothing but his boxers. His hair all tousled up and _sexy._ I get up and he says, ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, beautiful?’ with that sweet, _sweet_ sexy voice—”

“Aren’t you gonna be in separate rooms or something?”

She smacked him lightly in the arm. “Shush, Warren. Just leave me to my imagination.” She took a deep breath and continued. “And I get up and I go, ‘Of course, Mr. Jefferson.’ And he looks at me, gets close and says, ‘Call me Mark.’”

Warren made a spectacular show of gagging. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Stella shoved him and he rolled to the floor in a fit of giggles. “You ass! Do you have any idea how many of _your_ fantasies I had to listen to when you talked about Max?”

“Yeah, but like, isn’t Mr. Jefferson in his forties? That’s like five levels of gross.”

“What can I say? I like older men. Not that I have the balls to actually flirt with him.”

“Didn’t think so.”

When they were done, Stella pushed her whole weight on her suitcase, attempting to force it shut. “Ugh, this stupid thing!”

“Why are you packing so much? You’re only gonna be gone for three days.”

“Uh, _yeah,_ but I have those three days planned down to a ‘T’. I have it all written down in my chalkboard.”

Warren looked around, but Stella’s walls were bare, save for a few posters. “Uh, what chalkboard?”

“That one, the one over by—” she cut herself off as she noticed that her chalkboard was gone, a post-it note left in its place. Frowning, she stood up and went over to read it. “What the hell? Dana took my chalkboard!”

“Did she steal it?” Asked Warren, surprised.

“No, but she always takes things without asking,” she sighed and looked at him with the most puppyish look she could muster. _“Warren…”_

Warren lifted his hands to stop her, “I know, I know. Go get your chalkboard. You don’t have to ask twice.” He stood up from the floor.

“I didn’t even ask once,” she said, giving him a smug look.

“You didn’t have to. It was all over your face. Be back soon.”

He heard Stella call him a doofus before he left.

 

It was a short walk to Dana’s room. Warren met Dana before and might even consider her a friend, even though they didn’t talk much. She was cheerful and friendly, often going out of her way to befriend everyone, even those outside her clique. 

Warren knocked on the door three times before she answered. When it opened his grin faltered, rapidly replaced by a deep red blush.

“Yeah? Oh, hi, Warren! It’s good to see you!” She said, smiling at him.

Dana stood there, leaning on her doorframe, wearing Trevor’s oversized jacket and what seemed like nothing else.

“I—oh, um, y-yes. Good to. Yeah,” he said, ever so gracefully. Warren had a hard time keeping his gaze away from her bare legs. He coughed, trying to divert his not-so-subtle staring, and forced himself to look at her face.

She didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, that reminds me! I have something of yours somewhere ‘round here. Come in,” she opened the door wider and Warren stepped in, his face heating up like an oven. He closed the door behind him.

“Something of mine?”

“Yeah. Where did I put it?” She said, bending down to pick something off the floor. Warren felt his face heat up like a firecracker. However, it turned out she was wearing shorts underneath the hoodie. Warren breathed out in relief, cursing his stupid teenage brain.

“So,” he said, trying to distract himself. “You and Trevor, huh?”

“Yeah! He’s really sweet. I’ve been trying to convince him to join the Vortex Club. Not that they’re his regular crowd, but I think he could be a good influence on them, ya know?”

“Yeah, totally,” he’d heard of Trevor from the guys— _the guys,_ he loved calling them that, still stoked about getting new friends—but hadn’t met him personally, outside of seeing him in class or out in the campus from time to time. 

“And he actually listens and we talk about deep stuff like, all the time. He’s really smart,” she said, pushing things over on her cluttered desk. “A-ha! There it is,” she said, a small green USB in her hand.

Warren gasped. “My flash drive!” He took it in his hands, caressing it gently with his thumb. That was right, Nathan had mentioned Dana had it after he lent it to…

“I borrowed it from Max. Before she disappeared,” said Dana, sitting on her bed. “Have you found out anything, by the way? Word on the street is you’ve been conducting your own investigation.”

Warren looked at the pendrive and sighed. He didn’t even get to find out if Max had watched any of his movies. The thought depressed him. “There’s not much. Not even a breadcrumb. It’s like she just,” he made a motion with his hand and a sound effect, _“poofed_ out of existence.” 

“You don’t think it’s related to Rachel Amber, do you?”

“The more I find out about Rachel, the less likely it seems. I feel like something completely different happened to Max.”

“It’s a shame. You two would’ve been so cute together. The geek duo,” she said with a genuine smile.

Warren could feel his face getting warm again. “So you knew I was into her.”

“Oh my God, really, Warren? You had a whole folder dedicated to pictures of her in your flash drive.”

His mind processed this slowly. “I... _w-what!”_ He squeaked. 

Dana began laughing then, in a really dorky way, full of snorts. “Did you seriously forget to erase it? I thought it was your way of letting her know you liked her.”

Warren was mortified. He had completely forgotten to check his flash drive before giving it to Max. Oh God, had she _seen_ it? 

At Warren’s completely stunned silence, Dana stopped laughing and said, “Don’t worry about it. It was really cute.”

“Really? Did she think that?” Warren asked almost desperately.

“I mean, that depends on whether she liked you back or not. If she did, then, yeah, she would’ve thought it was super cute. If she didn’t, well…”

Warren wanted to crawl into a hole. The embarrassment was too much for him.

“But it doesn’t really matter now. With her being gone and all,” Dana wrapped her arms around herself. “I just hope there isn’t something bigger going on. Two girls missing in one year. That’s scary.”

Warren couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right. 

“Anyways,” she said, “you didn’t come here to talk about this. And I kinda don’t want to think about it. Juliet’s the reporter, not me. So, what’s up?’

“Oh right!” Warren had almost forgotten. “Stella asked me to get her chalkboard back.”

“It’s over there, you can take it. Tell her I said thanks. She’s leaving for the trip tomorrow, isn’t she? Victoria’s livid about it.”

“Yeah, she just wants to get her stuff in order before she goes,” he took the blank chalkboard and began carrying it out. It was huge and Warren couldn’t carry it in a way that wasn’t awkward for him. “Thanks, Dana.”

“No problem, Warren. We should talk some more,” she said, and closed the door behind him.

 

Warren thanked his lucky stars that Stella’s room had been right next to Dana’s, so he didn’t have to carry it far. He kicked the door open and walked in, not really able to see where he was going.

“What took you so lo—Warren, look out!”

He heard Stella’s warning too late and heard something crack underneath his shoe.

“Oh, shit, what did I step on?” Warren leaned the chalkboard on the base of the bed to see Stella holding her glasses. He knelt down beside her, inspecting the damage. They were broken beyond repair. “Oh man, Stella, I’m so sorry. Why were they on the floor?”

“I took them off, ‘cus I wanted to try out wearing contacts for the trip,” she explained. “It’s not your fault, but,” she sighed, “I’d have to dip into my savings to get them replaced. Maybe I can ask my boss for some overtime. Or an advance.”

Warren knew how hard Stella worked after school at her jobs and felt incredibly guilty. Especially since he didn’t have the money to pay her back either. 

Except…

“Wait, hold on, I know how to fix this,” he said. Stella looked at him, doubtful, but Warren ignored her and rewound time. 

He watched in awe as the glass reconstructed itself instantaneously and set itself back on the floor. That never got old. But then, right before letting go of the pull, he made the mistake of looking up and his satisfied smile dropped. 

There was something written on the chalkboard. 

More still, it was written in _Max’s_ handwriting. 

Warren kept the pull going, but felt his time running out. He looked closer. To his utter surprise, it was equations. Physics. The chalkboard was full from top to bottom with them, and graphs so advanced not even Warren understood it. Why would Max write this on a chalkboard? Moreover, what did they _mean?_

He felt the familiar weight on his skull that indicated that his time had near run out and Warren did what he could to memorize all the variables. He let go before the pressure had been too much, his brain feeling like it was about to split.

To his left, Stella had finished putting in her first contact lense. “Fucking finally! God, I hate these things,” she grumbled to herself and started when she saw Warren. _“¡Ay, puñeta!_ You scared the shit out of me! I didn’t see you come in.”

Warren didn’t say anything, just crawled toward the chalkboard, wordlessly asking Stella for a piece of chalk, eyes not leaving the board in case he would forget a detail.

Stella, though confused, sensed his urgency and passed a white piece of chalk to his open hand. Warren wrote down the pattern with an almost shaking hand. Hoping to get it perfect. 

In the end, he stepped back, satisfied that he managed to recreate it well enough. He was thankful to have such a good memory for science.

Stella had remained quiet and looked between him and the board. “Okay,” she said, breaking the silence. “That’s some really impressive math you got there, genius. Did you have some extra Physics homework I wasn’t aware of, or…?”

“What do you think this is?” He asked her.

“Is this a test?”

“No.”

Seeing how serious he was, she came closer to the board. Since she had only one contact lense on, she picked up her glasses and held it over her uncovered eye. She pursed her lips and frowned, looking at it for a long time before saying, “Honestly? I have no idea. I recognize a few things, though, look,” she pointed at a few equations, seeing a pattern, “doesn’t that look familiar to you?”

Warren took a closer look at it, breaking it down, trying to understand it. It hit him then, “The mass-energy equivalence. You’re right,” he followed her patterns, “E, m, c. Energy, mass, and the speed of light. It’s there, but it’s not Einstein’s equation. It’s different.” He could probably figure it out if he worked on it long enough, his brain already working overdrive at the excitement on taking on a mysterious equation.

“Okay,” Stella said, setting her glasses down and attempting to put on her second contact lense. “What’s up?

Should he tell her? Stella was one of Warren’s closest friends. He had no idea how she would react to the concept of time travel, but, like Nathan, Warren believed he could convince her easily.

At his silence, she prompted. “Well?”

But the number one fact about Stella—as much as Warren loved her—was that she could not keep a secret.

“Nothing,” he lied. “Or, well. Nothing important. Just some homework.” Then Stella got that _look_ in her eye that she was going to probe for more information and Warren didn’t think he could lie for that long. Warren grabbed his bookbag and stood up, slinging it over his shoulder. “Can I borrow the chalkboard?”

“Really? I _just_ got it back.”

“Pretty please?” Warren batted his eyelashes at her. 

Stella rolled her eyes and shook her head in defeat. Victory! Nobody could resist his puppy-eyes. “Fine. Knock yourself out. Dana erased my schedule anyway so I don’t have a reason to keep it.”

He lifted the chalkboard up, carrying it out of the room. “Thanks, you’re the best!”

“Bring it back soon!” He heard her call out as he was leaving. He responded by kicking the door shut. Through the thin walls, he heard her mutter, “I’m never going to see that chalkboard again.”

ooo

The air already had a bite to it, at 4pm. The sun was beginning its descent soon, and Warren walked around the campus, sipping on an already-warm soda can. He tugged on the strings of his hoodie absently while he was lost in thought.

There were so many things going on in his life that he couldn’t settle on one longer than a few minutes before his mind quickly brought him upon another subject. Max, the chalkboard, his time powers, Rachel, Nathan, the weather… He surprisingly didn’t find any room in his mind to think about the test he was going to have to take soon. 

Max and the chalkboard were related. Had to be. Warren knew her handwriting as well as his own. He tried working it out for a few minutes back at his dorm, but his empty stomach wouldn’t let him focus for long. He needed to _really_ sit down with it, _really_ try to figure it out. Aside from the equation itself, and what it meant, there was still an even bigger mystery. Why was he the only one that could see it?

It wasn’t his first time seeing something that wasn't there, aside from seeing Max herself, he had seen her message in the junkyard. _Max was here._

Both things he could only see as he was rewinding, which meant it was connected to his time powers. He didn’t have any continuous hallucinations or visions, not that he knew of, except…

The doe. He had seen her before, in the junkyard. Somewhere else too, but couldn’t for the life of him remember where. And now she was standing a few feet away from him, staring at him with large brown eyes. 

He hadn’t considered her a hallucination or a vision before, when she was farther away, but now she was closer and he noticed her translucent pelt. Warren got near and the doe moved. Not skittishly as most would, but in a calm way, as if she were trying to lead him somewhere.

Warren followed her, and she led him into the woods behind the school. Not too far in, though he would have followed her until the end of the Earth if it would help find Max. She led him to a small clearing, her gaze pointed to a tree. 

It was a regular tree, for all intents and purposes; there was nothing that made it stand out.

Except there was blood on the trunk.

It had dried into a rusty red, and Warren would have missed it had the doe not pointed it out to him. He wondered if it had anything to do with Max or Rachel, but dully recalled a high Nathan telling him he had a ‘boxing match’ with a tree once.

Warren brushed his fingertips on the bark, where the blood was. If it was Nathan’s, why would the doe lead him to it?

“Do you know what’s going on?” He asked the doe. She only stared back. Warren laughed a bit, feeling silly. “I supposed it was too much to see if you could talk. My life’s been so weird lately, it wouldn’t have even surprised me.” He reached out to pet her, but his hand phased through her skin. “Yeah, that’s more like it.”

Checking his phone, he realized it was almost time for the test. “Listen, I’d love to stay, but—” He looked up, and she was gone. 

Warren really, really hoped the doe was related to his powers and that he wasn’t going crazy.

ooo

In all honesty, Warren couldn’t believe he was going to take a science test in the midst of everything. For some reason, _that_ seemed like the odd thing in his life. The one thing that was out of place. 

Warren pushed open the main doors. The hallways were completely empty, given how late it was. It felt weird. He wondered if he was going to run into Nathan, since they were going to take the test together. He wondered what he was going to say.

“Stop right there, Graham!” 

Warren stopped in his tracks as David Madsen showed up from behind a corner and stalked towards him like a charging bull. He was probably pissed because a student was wandering the halls after hours. _Great._

“What the fuck were you doing in my house last Monday?” David hounded him, staring him down.

Warren was completely thrown off. “I— Uh. What?” His house? He didn’t even know where he lived. When was he at his house?

“Don’t play dumb with me.” It was then Warren saw that David was angry, _really_ angry. His eyes glared holes into Warren’s own, his face reddening, and his mouth spat on every word. 

Warren didn’t know what to do, stumbling over his words in his confusion.

“Answer me!” David barked, grabbing Warren by the arm harshly. Squeezing hard enough to cut off his circulation. “What were you going to do with my step-daughter, you sick fuck?!”

David’s grip on him was painful. Warren struggled to get out of his hold, his adrenaline kicking in, making him incapable of having clear thoughts. “Wha— I don’t… Wait, are you talking about Chloe?”

“I know you broke into my house. I know you were behind the disappearances. I know you were trying to take Chloe away from me!” David shook him and Warren’s heart dropped as he realized the dangerous situation he was in. 

Suddenly, David’s grip was released as he was tackled to the ground. Nathan was on him, more furious than Warren had ever seen, throwing punches into David’s face. Warren was shocked, and stared in horror as they fought. 

Nathan had come out of nowhere, the momentum from the tackle and the unexpected attack had given him an advantage, but unlike Nathan, David actually had experience in combat training and it was clear he was going to win the struggle, as he was quickly overpowering him. 

After what felt like a hundred years, Warren finally snapped out of it, and his body moved to try and break them up. However, he got too close and in a swift movement, David accidentally elbowed him in his right eye, causing him to stagger back. 

David forced Nathan onto his stomach, pressing his knee against his back, holding his arms secure behind him. He was shouting and Nathan was snarling curses and other colorful expletives, but Warren was too dazed to make anything out. 

It took the click of handcuffs being placed on Nathan’s wrists to trigger him to use his powers.

Not even two seconds in and his head already began to feel the agonizing pressure. He’d used his powers for too long looking at the chalkboard, goddamn it. He saw Nathan turn the corner to see David harassing him and Warren didn’t think he could forget the look Nathan had in his eyes just then. The pressure was building up painfully, but Warren didn’t want to let go until he was sure David left the hallway.

But then, Warren tried to let go of the pull to find out he couldn’t. The pressure had built up to the point that he was nearly blinded by the pain, but he _couldn’t stop rewinding._

Warren panicked. It was as if instead of him pulling the universe to turn back time, the universe was pulling _him._ And it was tearing him apart.

He fought hard to regain control, and eventually he did. With a _yank_ Warren managed to stop turning back time. 

The ground seemed to shift beneath his feet and Warren felt like he was going to faint. What the fuck was that? Warren had felt like he was being torn apart. He had no doubt in his mind that if he had kept going, he would have been killed. Or worse, he could have seriously fucked up the fabric of space-time. _The world could have been destroyed,_ he realized shockingly. Warren needed to lay down.

But he couldn’t, not with David just around the corner, so he turned and stumbled into the direction where he saw Nathan come in. 

Hot liquid dripped from his nose into his mouth and he didn’t have to taste it to know it was blood. His skull felt like it had been cracked open. He stumbled through the hall, and eventually had to stop, leaning into the lockers to keep balance. His eye hurt, his body was exhausted, and he kept touching his head to make sure it didn’t _really_ split open. 

“Holy _fuck,”_ Nathan’s voice was almost music to his ears. “Warren, are you okay?” 

“I need to… Fuck,” was his reply.

“What happened?”

“David’s coming. I can’t…” Warren tried to finish the sentence, but it hurt just to speak.

“Got it,” answered Nathan, and led Warren outside.

 

The wind came as a relief to Warren’s overheated brain. They’d stopped at a secluded corner behind the school building. Nathan and him sat on a broken bench next to the dumpster. Warren slouched in his seat, tilting his head toward the sky to try and control the bleeding.

Nathan’s legs were shaking, Warren noticed. Bouncing up and down in his seat anxiously. Warren’s migraine had dulled into a persistent headache and his body was slowly regaining energy.

“Here,” Nathan said, offering him a handkerchief with the letters _‘NP’_ on it. Warren couldn’t help but snort when he saw it. “What?” Nathan asked, slightly irritated.

“You have a handkerchief with your initials on it. That’s so _rich_ of you.” Warren took it and dabbed his nose. It came out red.

“Actually, that’s my cum rag,” answered Nathan. Warren released a squawk and immediately dropped it. Nathan laughed at him. 

“You’re lying. I can’t believe you would be mean to me in my hour of need,” said Warren, picking up the handkerchief again and pressing it against his nostrils.

Nathan stopped then, looking over at Warren, seeing his nosebleed, his ashen skin, the sweat on his brow, the fact that he couldn’t keep his eye open all the way. Nathan’s brows knit in concern.

“What happened?” He asked.

Warren took a deep breath, wondering exactly _how_ he was going to explain everything to Nathan when he was so confused about it himself.

He started out simple. “Did you know David is step-douche?”

“Who?”

“Chloe’s stepfather.”

Nathan scoffed. “That explains why he’s got a pole up his ass all the time.”

Warren continued, “I don’t know how, but he knows I was at Chloe’s last Monday.”

“Seriously? What about me?”

“He didn’t mention you, so I’m not sure. He thinks I’m the one that broke into Chloe’s house and tried to kill her.”

“What?” Nathan looked at him, really looked at him, and Warren could see the anger he saw earlier surfacing again. “Was he the one who gave you that black eye?”

Warren had a black eye? That was kind of cool, he guessed. “No,” he assured Nathan before he could get angry. “Well, yes, but it was an accident. He was all up in my face and he grabbed me.” His arm still hurt, but only faintly. “And then you showed up, out of nowhere, and got him off me. Like a superhero.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “A superhero?”

“I tried to help but he ended up elbowing me in the eye. He overpowered you and that’s when I turned back time. Nathan, he thinks I’m the one going after the girls.”

Nathan took in a sharp breath. “That’s bullshit! If anything, he should be on his knees sucking your dick ‘cause you saved his bitch ass daughter! How did he know you were in there but not that you were helping her?”

“I don’t know,” answered Warren. “I don’t get it, why didn’t she tell him about Frank?”

“And say what? That she owed cash to a drug dealer and that’s why he tried to kill her in the dead of night? I’m sure that’ll go over real well with Sergeant Dickface. She was right not telling on Frank. If they go after Frank they’ll go after his customers and then everyone’s boned.”

“I guess.”

“We have to set the record straight somehow. David’s a paranoid cocksucker and I guarantee you he won’t let up until someone’s behind bars.”

“You’re right. I just don’t know what I’m going to—”

He was interrupted by the crackling of the intercom. _“Warren Graham to the Principal’s office immediately. I repeat, Warren Graham to the Principal’s office immediately.”_

“...Shit,” Warren said. “This is probably about that. You don’t think he’ll attack me in front of Principal Wells, do you?”

“If they’re calling you to the office, it means they don’t have anything,” Nathan stood up from the bench. “I’m coming with you.”

“What? Nathan, you don’t have to. I’m the one in trouble.”

“Yeah, but I was there. I can threaten a lawsuit or have a lawyer back you up. And Wells is putty in my hands, he won’t let anything happen to you as long as I have something to say about it.”

“That’s kind of… scary.”

Nathan sighed, visually trying to calm himself down. Warren still had to talk to him about last night. “I know. Just. Look, let me try to help you. Besides, if it gets too bad you can always rewind, right?”

Warren rubbed his fingers against his temple. “That’s the thing, I’m out of juice. I don’t think I could even manage a second.” And he didn’t want to risk breaking the fabric of reality again, but he decided to keep that bit to himself.

“Well, fuck.”

ooo

When they arrived at the Principal’s office the secretary tried to stop Nathan from coming in, but a glare and a curt word was all it took to get her to back down. Warren had never realized how much power the Prescotts had in the school and he could only be glad Nathan was using it to help him.

David Madsen was already at the office, standing to the left of the chair Warren supposed he was going to have to sit in, looking murderous, but not as bad as he was when he was attacking him. A feeling of dread settled in Warren’s stomach when he saw the cop standing behind Wells.

Wells saw Nathan enter the office and aged about twenty years, sighing deeply and pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Mr. Prescott,” he said, his voice strained. “To _what_ do I owe the pleasure?”

“What are you doing here, Prescott?” spat David. “This is a serious matter between me and Warren Graham! You can’t just—”

“I was _there,”_ was all Nathan said, and it was enough to get him to shut up. Principal Wells looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. The police officer clenched his jaw.

“What do you mean you were there? What are you talking about?” Said Wells.

“Yeah, what the hell does that mean, Prescott?” Said David.

Nathan took a seat in front of the desk, Warren followed on the other chair. “Why don’t you first tell us why we’re here?”

Wells took a deep breath and said, “I called Mr. Graham here because Mr. Madsen has some personal concerns that need to be addressed. There was a break in at his home Monday night, during the blackout. His daughter had been alone at the house when the intruder came in. Two bullets were fired, but thankfully, Ms. Price was unharmed.” He looked at Warren. “We have called you here today because according to some witnesses your car was found at the scene during that time. Is this true?”

Warren cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I was there.”

 _“I knew it!”_ Exclaimed David, glaring daggers into him. “What were you doing with my step-daughter, you sick—”

“Language, David! I know this is a very emotional matter to you but we must look at things objectively. In fact there hasn’t been any evidence that Warren was in fact the intruder and is not under arrest.” Warren breathed out in relief. _“However,”_ Wells added pointedly, turning to Warren. “We would like to know what you were doing at the Price residence during that time.”

Warren glanced at Nathan, who, with a subtle nod, told him to go on. “Chloe called us in the middle of the night because someone broke into her house. We drove there to help.”

“You’re lying!” Spat David. “Chloe didn't say anything about other people being there. Not to mention, the car that had been there that night is no longer at campus! Almost as if you’re trying to hide it.”

Nathan scoffed and Warren continued, “My car was confiscated by my dad yesterday. And I don’t know why she didn’t say we were there, but if you call her, she’ll probably testify for us.”

David opened his mouth to argue, but Wells stopped him. “We will do that, but first, please finish your story.”

“We arrived at the house a few minutes after she called us and she was hidden in the closet. The intruder had a gun. He fired into the closet, but missed. We talked him down into leaving.”

“What did the intruder look like?” Asked Wells.

Nathan spoke before he had the chance to. “He was wearing a mask. We couldn’t see his face.”

“Bullshit,” said David.

Warren swallowed. “It’s true,” he lied. “It was dark, and he was wearing a mask so we couldn’t really see anything.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?” The police officer asked.

“We weren’t really thinking about that,” answered Warren, which had been half of the truth. 

“Is that how you got your black eye?” Wells asked.

“No,” Warren answered, “that’s unrelated.”

“How do we know you’re not lying? I don’t trust you one bit. This is all too convenient!” said David.

Just then, the door slammed open, a concerned Ms. Grant and Mr. Jefferson entering the room. 

“We heard what happened,” said Ms. Grant. “Warren is _my_ student. He is by far the most honest, caring, sweetest student this school has to offer. He would never do the things you are accusing him of.”

Warren felt the tips of his ears turning red. He always knew he was Ms. Grant’s favorite, but he never expected this. 

“This is a personal matter, Ms. Grant,” said Wells.

“How did you hear about this?” Asked David.

“Warren and Nathan were supposed to be taking a make-up test with me right now. When I heard the intercom I assumed something happened. Moira told me everything.”

“Remind me to speak with Mrs. Nichols later,” he said gruffly, referring to his secretary. “What about you, Mr. Jefferson?”

“I was coming to talk to you about something when I ran into Michelle and Moira. Nathan is _my_ student. I don’t believe him capable of breaking into Mr. Madsen’s home,” said Jefferson, but he was looking at Warren. Beside him, Nathan stiffened.

Wells exhaled, placing his elbows on his desk, “Whatever the both of you heard, you have been misinformed. Mr. Graham and Mr. Prescott are not under arrest and are free to go whenever they wish.”

Nathan moved to get up, but Wells continued, _“But_ we would greatly appreciate it if they stayed and helped us get all the facts straight so that the _investigation_ can continue, unhindered.” Nathan sat back down, arms crossed.

“As it turns out, they are informing us that they were helping Ms. Price. We still have a lot we don’t know, but for the meantime, they are not in trouble. You say they were supposed to be taking a test?”

Ms. Grant nodded.

“Have them take it tomorrow, after school. I appreciate your concern as teachers, but your students are fine. You are dismissed.”

Ms. Grant and Mr. Jefferson excused themselves and left. Wells sighed, looking so, so tired. He looked at David and said, “Let’s call your daughter, ask her if what these gentlemen are saying is the truth.”

David agreed for once and dialed the number, placing the phone on speaker.

After a few rings, Chloe picked up. _“What do you want?”_

“Chloe, I am here with Principal Wells and an officer of the law regarding the break in that happened a few nights ago,” said David.

_“Oh my God, I already told you everything I knew. Stop being so paranoid, it was just a freak break in.”_

“I’ve told you not to use that tone with me, Chloe! You almost died, it’s time you start taking things seriously!”

_“Not like you took it seriously after I called you, like, a million times that night.”_

Nathan rolled his eyes, already exasperated with Chloe. Warren shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Wells cleared his throat. “This is Principal Wells of Blackwell Academy, how are you doing, Ms. Price?”

 _“Fine, I guess,”_ Chloe grumbled on the other line.

“I have two gentlemen here with me who claim were with you on the night of the break in. Could you corroborate their story?”

_“Walter and Nathan?”_

Nathan snorted and Warren sighed.

“So, it’s true they were with you?”

_“Yeah, I called them after step-douche and my mom wouldn’t pick up their phones.”_

“Why didn’t you call the police?” The officer spoke up.

_“Like they do shit in this town.”_

David bristled beside them, ready to reprimand her, but Wells just shook his head and kept going. “And is it true that they helped you from the intruder?”

_“Yeah, they saved me. I was locked in the closet so I don’t know what happened, but they got him to leave. I would have been dead if they hadn’t shown up.”_

David blinked, licked his lips. Nathan gave him an ‘I told you so’ look which David sneered at.

“Alright, that will be all, thank you very much Ms. Price,” said Wells.

“Thanks, Chloe,” Warren said.

“Yeah, _thanks.”_ Nathan added, sarcastic as always.

David hung up the call. He looked at Warren and sighed. “I have apologize for my behavior and all the accusations. I wasn’t thinking straight. You saved my Chloe. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have a family anymore. So, thank you.” And to everyone’s surprise, he turned to Nathan and said, “That goes for you too.”

Nathan looked the most surprised of all, his eyebrows near his headline. “Seriously,” he deadpanned.

“Yes. Both of you did me a service, and I’ll never forget it.”

“Good,” said Wells, putting his things away. “Now that we have everything taken care of, you’re all dismissed.”

ooo

Warren and Nathan parted ways when they left the office, Warren stating that he needed fresh air to clear his mind. Nathan returned to his dorm, promising to text, while Warren sat alone in the benches. The sun had already set and for the first time in what felt like a long time, Warren felt relaxed.

He nearly jumped when Mr. Jefferson approached him, seeming to come out of nowhere with how well his suit blended with the dark. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “May I?”

“Sure,” Warren scooted over in his seat to give him room.

“I heard what you did. You and Nathan. It was very brave.”

“Thanks,” he answered. “It was nothing, really.”

Mr. Jefferson chuckled. “Humility’s good. I can’t help but notice how different you are from Nathan. I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“It’s recent,” Warren answered. “He’s actually pretty cool to hang out with.”

“Nathan’s one of my top students. Very talented, but unfortunately misguided. I think you could be a good influence on him.”

Warren didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t expect to be talking about Nathan to a teacher, so he just nodded.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are on the waiting list for Advanced Photography.”

Warren perked up. “Yeah, I am.”

“And you know, due to unfortunate circumstances, I have two vacancies in one of my classes.” Was he saying what Warren thought he was saying? “I took a look at the portfolio you turned in and you have a good eye for photography. If you’re interested, I could fill you in one of the spots.”

It had been so long since he applied for the class that he had completely forgotten about the few photographs he turned in as a portfolio. “Really?” 

“Keep in mind that we are in the middle of October and you have a couple of month’s worth of projects and homeworks to turn in, but I took a look at your record and I believe you are more than capable of catching up to the rest of the class.”

“Yes! I mean, yeah, I can totally do that. No problem. Thank you so much, Mr. Jefferson. For the opportunity, I mean.”

“Of course,” Mr. Jefferson said. “If you need any help at all please don’t hesitate to ask me. Or Nathan, I’m sure he would be willing to help you.”

“No, yeah, totally! Thank you!”

Mr. Jefferson gave him the syllabus and told him his first class was tomorrow at 2pm. Warren read over the paper with a huge grin. Wow, Advanced Photography was very extensive. He really needed help if he wanted to catch up. Oh, and he had to get a camera. 

The first person that came to mind to tell had been Nathan of course. He whipped his phone out and opened the messaging app. To his surprise, there were three dots on the screen, indicating that Nathan was writing a message. Warren waited, but then the three dots left, only to return a second later, only to leave again. 

Warren took pity on Nathan’s struggle and texted him first.

**[You, Today 7:43 PM]**

_HEY! Guess what?_

**[Nathan, Today 7:43 PM]**

_wat_

**[You, Today 7:43 PM]**

_No, you have to guess._

**[Nathan, Today 7:44 PM]**

_ffs just tell me_

**[You, Today 7:44 PM]**

_I just got accepted into Mr. Jefferson’s photography class! Woot!_

Then, the oddest thing happened. Nathan didn’t reply for a few minutes, not even trying to type anything. Warren began to leave the campus and go back to his dorm when he sent,

**[You, Today 7:53 PM]**

_You okay?_

**[Nathan, Today 7:55 PM]**

_yah im fine_

**[Nathan, Today 7:55 PM]**

_congrats now you have more work to do_

**[You, Today 7:55 PM]**

_I don’t care! I’ve wanted this for a long time. My only worry is that I don’t have a camera anymore._

Warren used to have an old camera but thanks to his notorious butterfingers, it wasn’t of any use to him anymore. 

**[Nathan, Today 7:55 PM]**

_i have 1 i can gve You_

**[You, Today 7:56 PM]**

_Really?? Sure yeah you can totally lend me one I have no probelm with that._

**[Nathan, Today 7:56 PM]**

_come over_

Impatient to get a new camera, Warren went straight for Nathan’s room.

 

Nathan was grouchy when he showed up, as usual, but Warren noticed the slightest turn on the corner of his lips as he handed over his camera. 

“Whoa, this looks expensive,” said Warren, checking the specs on the manual.

“Did you think I’d have some kind of hicky-dunk piece of garbage?” Answered Nathan, eloquently. 

“Yeah, but this is extreme. Like a couple of thousand bucks extreme.”

Nathan shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t use it anymore. Not since the new version came out a few months ago.” He tossed Warren a case. There were at least three types of lenses in there. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

A wave of appreciation washed over Warren. Nathan stuck out his neck for him today, physically defending him from David, then personally defending him from Wells. And now he was giving him a state of the art camera like it was no big deal.

Nathan was talking to him at the moment, explaining in detail how each function on the camera worked, how to adjust the lenses and what they were for, even throwing in a few facts about photography. 

“Go on, try it,” said Nathan, pushing the camera into his hand.

For some reason, Warren knew exactly what he wanted his first picture to be with that camera.

Nathan blinked at the flash, and his brows knit together into a frown. “Who said you could take a picture of _me?”_

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Warren teased. He looked over the picture. Nathan had been caught by surprise, his blue eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted. Curled strands stood out of place in his hair, the beggining of bed head. It wasn’t a flattering picture of Nathan, but Warren loved it.

Nathan scrunched his nose when he looked at it. “Delete it.”

“Nope,” answered Warren.

“Did I fucking stutter?” Nathan reached for the camera but Warren held it away from his reach.

“My camera, my rules,” he answered cheekily. 

Nathan made a face to show he was outraged but Warren saw a playful glint in his eye. He shoved Warren and attempted to grab the camera, but Warren kept the camera out of his reach giggling like a little kid. 

“Give it to me!” Nathan lunged again, and Warren blocked him with his arm, keeping him away.

“Look, look, wait!” He said, before Nathan could pounce at him again. Warren placed his own camera down and took Nathan’s. Before Nathan could ask, Warren took a selfie. “Now we’re even.” He said, showing Nathan the picture.

Nathan frowned and said, “It’s not the same, you look better than I do.”

“What? No way,” said Warren, looking at both pictures and comparing them. Warren’s hair was a complete mess, he was sweaty, his right eye was swollen and purple, and there were tears on the corner of his eyes from laughing so much. 

Nathan pouted, claiming otherwise, and Warren brought his camera again, wrapping his arm around Nathan’s shoulder. “Say cheese,” he said, giving Nathan ample time to prepare his signature frown.

The flash blinded the both of them for a moment. Then he checked the picture. To his complete and utter surprise, Nathan had actually flashed a genuine smile for the camera. He was thrown off for a moment, a quick, but not unpleasant feeling forming in his stomach as he looked at the picture. Then he cleared his throat and said, “See? We both look like a mess.”

Nathan stared at the picture for a moment longer before replying. “If you say so.”

The same wave of appreciation washed over Warren again. He wanted to do something for Nathan. He wanted Nathan to know how much he appreciated him. 

He was suddenly reminded of something Brooke had told him a few days ago.

“Hey, Nate, I want to thank you for today,” he said.

“What about today?”

“You saved me from David earlier. You don’t remember, ‘cause I rewinded and everything, but you took a few hits for me. Literally. And you were with me at the office, even though you didn’t have to, and just now you gave me one of your cameras.”

“And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he said.

Nathan looked intrigued. “How?”

“They’re having a re-run of the _Planet of the Apes_ marathon this weekend at the Drive-In in Newberg. Let’s Go Ape!” He said, feeling every bit as nervous as when he was preparing himself to go tell Max. He didn’t know why his heart felt like it was beating out of his cage from asking the question. It wasn’t like they were going on a date.

Nathan looked him up and down and Warren couldn’t shake the feeling he was being judged. Whatever, it was stupid. He was probably going to say no. He was about to retract his offer when Nathan answered. “Sure, why not.”

“Fine, be a damn dirty human. I’ll go—” He did a double take. “Wait, what? Really?” 

“Yeah, ‘really’, what did you expect me to say? I love old sci fi.”

Warren stared at Nathan slack jawed for a few seconds, astonished at how much they had in common. 

“I know, right? And the fact that it’s going to be in a car is so retro, I’m super pumped!” Warren’s grin was so wide he felt like his face was going to split in two. “It’s at Newberg, sixty miles away. We should leave at around five on Saturday; it starts at dusk.”

It seemed Warren’s grin was contagious because Nathan’s own face was starting to reflect it. “Sure,” he said. 

“Anyways,” Warren said, “I should get going now, I have a lot of work to catch up on if I want to start Advanced Photography tomorrow. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Nathan said goodbye to him and Warren returned to his dorm. The first thing he did was upload the pictures he took onto his laptop, archiving them under a new folder named _Nathan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _David will remember this..._
> 
>  
> 
> I put Warren through so much this chapter, lmao. Someone help this poor boy.
> 
> Next chapter we're skipping directly to the day of their first date! Not that they know it's a date, but y'know ;) I hope everyone's ready to Go Ape!
> 
> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a kudos or a comment and let me know what you think!


	15. Killing Me Softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I am so, so sorry this chapter took so long I honestly have no excuse. And I am so sorry if I don't reply to your comments, I'm a little ball of excitement and anxiety and I really honestly do appreciate them, all your comments mean so much to me and make my day.
> 
> Back to business, I wrote a small one-shot of Joyce and Nathan's first meeting. You may read it [here!](http://gunophilia.tumblr.com/post/154940658585/make-it-black)
> 
> This is a long one, so be sure to kick back and relax as you read through this rollercoaster.

_October 19_

Dr. Bill wasn’t an ordinary psychiatrist. He was a renowned radio host that focused on child development and made a fortune from a series of ghostwritten family-centered help books. Warm, empathetic, professional. Everything you’d want in a psychiatrist telling you how to live your life. He was exceptionally well liked. You could thank his publicity agents for that.

The real man, the man Nathan had been forced to see for the past seven years, was nothing like that.

The office was in his own home, seeing that he hadn’t accepted patients for the past four years. Nathan was an exception, given how long he had been in treatment with him. The piles of money his parents threw at him on a regular basis didn’t hurt either.

Nathan sat on a comfortable antiquated armchair, posture slouched with his hands fisted in his varsity’s pockets. Light filtered dimly through a large window to his right. Bach played on a phonograph. It was supposed to be soothing, but Nathan had heard it so many times that he found the sound nothing more than grating. On the walls were Dr. Bill’s numerous diplomas, Phd’s, certificates, awards, etcetera, etcetera. A few paintings placed tastefully to give the eye some rest from all the words on the wall. 

In front of him, Dr. Bill sat cross-legged, watching him, analyzing his every movement. 

“Good afternoon, Nathan.” He showed a row of teeth. “How are you feeling? It’s been a while.”

“Yu _p_ ,” answered Nathan with a popping sound.

“Tea?” He offered, holding a warm cup towards him. “I remember how you like it, with extra sugar.”

“Thanks,” Nathan said gruffly, taking a sip. His tongue burned at the contact and he released a startled hiss.

“Careful, Nathan,” Dr. Bill said, “it’s hot.”

Nathan glared at him, knowing the timing of the warning had been deliberate. He placed the cup at the table. Dr. Bill was trying to provoke him, get him to incite his anger, but he had gotten used to the game.

“You didn’t answer my earlier question. How have you been? Last time I remember, your health had greatly improved.”

“I’m fine,” Nathan said. “I’ve been taking my meds, and I saw some other psychiatrists while you were away.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said, writing notes in shorthand. The scratchy sound of the pen irritated Nathan. Dr. Bill licked the top row of his teeth and reached for a folder that sat on the end table next to him. He placed it over his lap. “Do you remember when you first came here? You had an extreme disconnect from reality, and your parents were very worried. You were suffering from auditory hallucinations, mood swings, violent episodes, and paranoia. You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?”

Without missing a beat, Nathan said, “Yep.”

“Then, I want to know why your father claimed you had another violent episode just shy of last week.”

That was when Nathan noticed he was staring at his knuckles. They had healed for the most part, but there was some scarring tissue that marred his skin. Nathan hid his hands inside his pockets. “So what?” He snapped.

“‘So what?’” Dr. Bill scoffed then, extending his hands. “I’m trying to help you. It is my job to make sure you’re not suffering any drawbacks. Honesty above all, Nathan. Tell me what happened.”

Nathan clenched his jaw, tried to control his jiggling legs. It was a nervous tick, one Dr. Bill had been quick to point out during their first session, seven years ago. “I don’t remember much. I was angry, then I woke up in a forest.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“I was punching a tree. The memory’s not very clear.”

“A tree. I see,” Dr. Bill pursed his lips and nodded, writing down some more notes. Nathan had mastered reading upside down, and saw that _Memory Gaps_ had been written down. Underneath that, Dr. Bill was writing _Trust Issues._

That got Nathan to look up, to see that Dr. Bill had been staring at him read the whole time. The man grinned, raising his eyebrows. Nathan frowned, and turned his gaze to one of the paintings.

“I don’t know if you remember, but the first time you came here I had you do a test,” Dr. Bill opened the file he had upon his lap. “Now, some of my colleagues believe that the Rorschach test isn’t very accurate in predicting schizoaffective disorders, but I disagree. The human mind is complex, that’s true, but there are… patterns, that the subconscious can pick up and identify with ease. The way everyone sees the pattern varies, obviously, but there are some people that see it remarkably different than most do. It’s a good insight into the inner workings of someone’s mind.”

Dr. Bill reached into the folder then, and pulled out a white cardboard. He gave Nathan the standard instructions for the test before flipping the cardboard to reveal an inkblot that looked like an infected surgery wound. Passing it to Nathan, he poised his pen, ready to take notes.

Nathan pretended to look at it for a few seconds before saying, “It looks like a moth.”

Dr. Bill clicked his tongue, nodding, and wrote it down. He pulled out another one, and then another one, and then another one. Nathan answered diligently, analyzing the inkblot, turning it at times. One of them reminded him of Rachel, and he paused, which Dr. Bill wrote down.

“What do you see?” He probed.

“That’s easy,” Nathan answered. “Pussy.”

Dr. Bill gave him an unamused grin, if such a thing was possible. “I’ve never had a patient say they saw a cat in that particular blot.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, it’s a vagiiiinaaaa,” he said, drawing out the vowels.

Dr. Bill wrote something down. Nathan made an effort not to look. “Language, Nathan. We have to curb that foul mouth of yours.”

“Whatthefuckever.”

When they finished, Dr. Bill licked his lips and said, “Nathan, answer honestly, do you want to get better?”

Nathan frowned and said, “Uh, yeah? No shit?”

“How do you expect to get better when you keep lying to me?”

This caused Nathan to draw back, placing his hands above his crotch; another nervous tick. “The fuck do you mean?”

“This test is bullshit, for the most part.” Dr. Bill threw the folder atop the end table, where it made a resounding bang that caused Nathan to flinch just slightly. “There are more effective tests that search for schizophrenia, paranoia, depression, what have you. The reason I use this test, however, is to test for one thing: honesty.”

Nathan clenched his jaw, focusing his gaze on the grandfather clock. It wasn’t moving fast enough.

“You are very transparent when you’re trying to hide something. You think you’re not, but you are. In every card that I showed you, you would look at it, think of the response that you think I want to hear, and then say it. I mean, look at this,” he took out one of the inkblots, “ _‘two rabbits holding hands’?_ I mean, really Nathan. We both know that’s not what you see.”

Nathan’s hands balled up into fists. They began to twitch, and he hid them inside his pockets. It was like this guy _wanted_ to get his teeth knocked out. He probably did just so he could sue his father.

“I had hoped you had grown past this childish notion of lying to your doctor. At least this time you admitted that your injuries were self-harm and didn’t blame anyone else. That’s progress.”

Nathan had never lied about that. Sometimes Nathan would show up to their sessions with a few bruises or a black eye. When Dr. Bill inquired what happened, Nathan would tell him the truth. He would then try to convince Nathan that the wounds were, in fact, self-inflicted. If his family wasn’t so vocal about what actually happened—with Kris loudly defending him and his mother threatening a divorce—Nathan would have believed him.

As it was, Nathan didn’t say anything, just glared at the floor. 

“Speaking of self-harm…” Dr. Bill said, giving Nathan an unwavering, scrutinizing glance over. “Any relapses?”

“No,” Nathan answered firmly.

“Show me.”

He glared ferociously at the psychiatrist, who wore that same self-assured smile he had grown to hate. With only a second of mistrustful hesitation, Nathan rolled up the sleeves of his varsity.

The chair made a creaking sound as Dr. Bill leaned forward to inspect Nathan’s scars. He took Nathan’s arm gently, turning it over and observing the white, criss-crossing lines that marred his forearm. “How long?” He asked.

“Five months,” Nathan replied. That was actually something he was proud of. 

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Bill said, writing it down. “Your father will be happy to hear about this.”

Another thing Nathan hated about Dr. Bill. Doctor-patient confidentiality? Out the window when you throw a few thousand dollars into the equation. It wasn’t like Nathan could do anything about it, anyways. Who was he going to tell that wasn’t already under his father’s thumb?

“So,” Dr. Bill leaned back in his seat, “tell me about your life. It’s been three months, what have I missed?”

Nathan gave him the most boring, uneventful babble about the past three months. He talked about school, parties, and classes in the most detached way. He mentioned the girls that went missing and talked a bit about Kate, but never mentioned the hand he played in her suicide. 

At least Dr. Bill pretended he cared. Kudos to him. He wrote down everything Nathan said, pursing his lips and nodding to indicate he was paying attention. 

“Good, good. I’m so sorry to hear about your classmates, what happened to them was very unfortunate. We discussed Kate’s situation on the radio show and how appalling it is that poor girl was driven to suicide.” 

Nathan swallowed, trying hard to suppress any emotion. Dr. Bill raised his brow and wrote something down. He definitely noticed. But he didn’t seem to acknowledge it, setting his pen down and continuing.

“Now, back to you. From what you’ve said, it sounds to me like you’ve had a very boring past three months. That’s good. I notice, however, that you haven’t mentioned anything about,” he read over his notes, “the incident with the tree.”

“I told you, I don’t remember much.”

“Not even what caused it? Did you do it out of rage or boredom or something else?”

“Rage,” Nathan answered.

“At whom?”

Jefferson. The fucking contest. How he was used, manipulated into doing his dirty work. But he couldn’t tell Dr. Bill that, and that was part of the game. Nathan had to give Dr. Bill what he wanted to hear, revealing only part of the truth.

“Myself, I guess.”

“Yourself,” Dr. Bill wrote it down. _Self-loathing._ Good. “And why is that?”

Nathan shifted in his seat. If he had to use his illness as a smokescreen, so be it. “I felt helpless. I don’t know. I’m fucked up. I heard… voices again. I just wanted them to stop.”

“Hallucinations?” Dr. Bill quirked his brow. “It’s been a while. When was the last time?”

“Last Tuesday. Before that, I don’t know.”

“What were they saying?”

“You know,” Nathan picked at the hem of his jacket. “The usual.”

“What’s the usual?”

Nathan inhaled through his nose. Dr. Bill knew what ‘the usual’ was, but he was forcing Nathan to say it. “Everybody hates me, the food is poisoned, I’m going to die, you know. The usual.”

“Had you taken the Risperidone I prescribed you?”

Nathan wanted to lie, but lying would just make it worse. “No.”

Dr. Bill tutted at him, writing it down. Nathan felt like he was twelve years old again, being chastised for something fucking stupid. “You have to take all your medication as I prescribe them, otherwise we’re going to have issues. If you don’t take them regularly, your body can build up a tolerance, and then where will we be?”

Nathan hated the pills. Some of them turned him into an unfeeling zombie, the days feeling like a drunk haze. Others made him feel faint and had him breaking out in cold sweat. Some made him fat. He was sure if he took all of his medication as prescribed he would end up in the hospital. But Nathan had gotten used to it, knowing which ones to take and when. It had worked for him so far, but sometimes he would forget to take them until it was too late. 

“I know,” he replied.

Dr. Bill wrote a long message on the clipboard, the scritch-scratch of pen against paper driving Nathan crazy. He began to pick on the cuticles of his fingers, until he realized that was something Warren did when he was nervous, and stopped. Since when did he pick up Warren’s habits?

“I have to say,” Dr. Bill snapped him out of his reverie, “it seems to me like the few steps we have taken towards your recovery have been nulled. Your hallucinations had all but stopped last time we saw each other, your temperament had been more controlled, and you hadn’t had a blackout since April.”

Dr. Bill was referring to the time in April where Nathan had woken up in American Rust, covered in dirt and bruises all over his body; with no recollection on how he’d gotten there, or what he’d done. He had driven his car into a ditch and had to call Victoria to pick him up. Nathan had attributed it to a bad trip, but Dr. Bill suggested it could have been his psychosis.

“If you had followed my instructions all of this could have been avoided,” Dr. Bill clicked his tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Nathan.”

The words struck a chord in him, just like Dr. Bill knew they would. His rage and resentment toward the psychiatrist were suddenly outweighed by a massive surge of guilt that flowed through him. “Sorry,” he said.

“That’s quite alright. I’m here to guide you back on the right path to recovery, there’s no need for that sour look. I see you brought your camera.” Dr. Bill pointed at it, smiling. “I’m sure you’ve taken beautiful pictures in the three months since we saw each other last. Do you have anything to show me?”

Despite everything, Dr. Bill always respected him as a photographer and pushed for him to pursue something in the art field. Part of Nathan knew it was only because he was interested in the whole ‘tortured artist’ bullshit, but hey, it was better than nothing. 

Nathan gave Dr. Bill his camera, sitting somewhat anxiously as the man looked through his photographs. He was looking at the raw, unfiltered, colored versions that hadn’t gone through Photoshop yet, which always made Nathan nervous to show. None of them were taken in the Dark Room, so there wasn’t anything substantial to worry about. 

“Oh?” Dr. Bill raised his brow, his mouth opening slightly. 

Dr. Bill looked surprised, as if he had found something scandalizing. Nathan found himself on high alert, expecting him to have found a dick pic, despite having never taken one of those with a professional camera since he was fifteen. 

“Who’s this?” Dr. Bill showed him the picture. It was the one Warren took of himself a few days ago, where he was grinning despite the fact that he had a black eye. Nathan liked the juxtaposition. 

“A friend from school,” Nathan answered.

“A friend?” Dr. Bill answered with a tone Nathan couldn’t decipher. He clicked on the next photograph to show another picture of Warren he had taken on Thursday, when he walked in on him brushing his teeth in the morning. He clicked again, another one of Warren. Nathan felt like he had been caught with something, but he didn’t know what. 

“What? Are you going to say that friends are bad for my recovery or something?” Nathan snapped.

“No, not at all. I just find it interesting. What’s his name?”

 _Noneya._ “Warren.”

 _“Warren,”_ Dr. Bill drawled, as if he was tasting it in his mouth. “Tell me, do you have feelings for this boy?”

If Nathan had been drinking something at that moment, he would have spit it out. 

“Do I _what?”_

“I’m just saying this looks… rather compromising.”

No. The answer was a straight-out, flat _no._ Just because he enjoys Warren’s company didn’t mean that he had feelings for the guy. _Romantic_ feelings. Dr. Bill was just trying to fuck with him because he was a fucking sadist. 

Sure, he hung out with Warren a lot recently, but that was because they were looking for Max! There was no way Nathan would hang out with him in any other circumstance.

...Except he already had. 

Hell, they were going to go to a silly, hippie drive-in to watch a movie. Just the two of them. Just two bros being dudes. Nothing wrong with that. Nathan never had many male friends, but he was sure that this was totally normal. And he took the pictures of Warren for the aesthetic, obviously. Always take the shot. 

“Am I going to have to tell your father about this?” Dr. Bill answered in response to Nathan’s silence.

“There’s _nothing_ to tell, dumbass,” Nathan snapped. 

“Honesty above everything, Nathan,” Dr. Bill warned, handing his camera back.

Nathan snatched his camera back and began deleting the pictures. He saw the one of Warren smiling and deflated. His thumb hovered over the delete button. 

_Fuck it,_ he thought, and turned off his camera. 

“There’s nothing,” he repeated. Nathan didn’t know why it felt like a lie.

ooo

When it was time to meet up at the dorms Warren had greeted him with a huge fucking smile on his face, practically bouncing on his feet at the excitement of going to a retro movie marathon. He said he managed to convince his dad to let him use the car again, and to leave his wallet at home because, “I’m buying tonight.”

“Really. You.” Nathan had deadpanned. He was referring to the time he had caught Warren eating a bag of chips and nothing else for lunch because he couldn’t afford a sandwich. The next day, Nathan bought him three.

“Yeah! I had some money saved up to take Max, but,” Warren licked his lips, looking forlorn, “that’s not possible anymore, so let me take you out.”

 _Like a date,_ Nathan’s mind had supplied him. He swatted the concept away, blaming Dr. Bill for the intrusive thought. Nathan didn’t like the idea of being on a budget, but Warren’s puppy look was very convincing. 

Which is how they found themselves at the Two Whales, Nathan seeing the numbers on the menu for the first time in his life. He realized he had no concept for the value of money. Was twelve dollars considered expensive? Nathan had no idea. Was five dollars for a drink okay? What was Warren’s budget? He could buy the entirety of Two Whales if he wanted. Stupid Warren and his stupid integrity. 

He supposed he could just order his usual. It couldn’t have been _that_ expensive. It was just waffles with whip cream. Wait, did the whip cream cost extra? He’d have to ask Joyce when she came by. 

“Dude, you okay?” Warren spoke up.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just deciding,” Nathan answered curtly. 

“If you keep frowning like that, your face will get stuck that way.”

“Frowning?” Nathan looked over the menu. “I’m not frowning.”

“Crap, it’s too late.” Warren gave him a cheeky grin.

Nathan didn’t laugh, only leaned back on his seat. “Shit day.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Mental disorders wasn’t a topic he liked to talk about and rarely did. Victoria knew a few things, but he never showed her how bad it could get. Jefferson pretended to be sympathetic. Rachel was the only one that understood him and had seen him at his worst. Where would Warren fit in?

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Does this have to do with, er,” Warren struggled to talk about it, was uncomfortable with the subject. Nathan was stupid, stupid for bringing it up. Warren snapped his fingers, looking into the ceiling, like he was trying to remember something. Nathan was about to put him out of his misery when he blurted, “your psychotic disorder!”

Nathan stared at him, blinking. Warren looked embarrassed and stumbled over his words, trying to take back what he said. Nathan wasn’t offended, not really, but it was the first time he heard anyone mention it so openly, rather than sugar-coating it with ‘your condition’ or ‘your mental _issues’_ or ‘your sickness’. Nathan especially hated that last one.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I wasn’t thinking and I’m sorry if I offended you or hurt you or triggered you or—”

“It’s fine,” Nathan interrupted. “You’re not wrong.”

“Sorry,” Warren repeated one last time. “I’ve been doing research on it since the other day, you know, looking into mental disorders and psychosis and shit—not that I’m trying to analyze you,” he added quickly, knowing it was one of Nathan’s worst peeves, “but I just.” 

Warren paused, took a deep breath, visually trying to compose himself. Nathan admired his effort. “I want to help you. You’re my friend and I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry if I insulted you.”

Nathan leaned back in his seat, feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. “It is what it is. I hear and see things that aren’t there. I’m psychotic.”

It felt weird to hear those words come out of his mouth so casually. Nathan didn’t think he actually ever said it in a way that wasn’t laced with self-loathing or bitterness. 

Joyce came out of the kitchen then, balancing a heavy tray over her shoulder. Nathan gave her a wave, silently indicating to her to come whenever she could. But instead of nodding in acknowledgement as she usually did, she looked at him with wide eyes and immediately went for his table. 

Nathan’s confused greeting was left lodged in his throat when Joyce set the tray down on his table and enveloped him in a tight hug. He stiffened from the surprise but Joyce didn’t seem put off, her arms wrapped around his body and her head on his shoulder.

She let go and he mourned the loss of contact, feeling colder. 

When she pulled back he saw there were unshed tears in her eyes, and a warm, tight-lipped smile. “I want to thank you,” she said. “You saved my Chloe during the break in. If it wasn’t for you, I might not have a daughter anymore.”

Nathan didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never been in this position before. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything, because she turned to Warren. “You must be the other boy that helped her. Walter.”

Warren had an easier time finding the words. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Thank you, too. And I’m so sorry for all the trouble David caused you, you have to understand, he loves Chloe and was very worried.”

Worried enough to accuse Warren of kidnapping girls, Nathan thought bitterly. He saw none of that bitterness in Warren, though, who only smiled back at Joyce. “Yeah, I know. And Chloe’s my friend, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.”

“I appreciate that.” Joyce released a shaky breath. “You have no idea the kind of guilt that girl can put on you. I had to work the entire night shift since I had taken time off to help look for Max last week. Then the power went off throughout the whole town and we were one of the few places with a power plant. The diner was so full there were people waiting outside for their orders. I didn’t even realize anything had happened until I saw the police cars outside my front door.”

She sighed and took the tray from the table, balancing it on her hip. “Chloe wouldn’t speak a word about it either. She said she was in ‘shock’ and refused to answer any questions. That girl is stubborn, I’ll tell you that. In any case, what do you boys want? It’s on the house.”

Warren protested, his _integrity_ getting in the way of free food, but Joyce shut that down fast. “You _saved_ my family,” she told them. “The least I could do is treat you to a free meal.” 

He gave in and Nathan recited his order to her happily, the weight of guilt lifting off his shoulders. He hated the thought of being a burden to Warren’s wallet. She wrote it down and left with a promise to return as fast as she could. 

“I’m so glad I could rewind time,” Warren said when she was out of hearing. “If it wasn’t for my powers, Chloe would have died. I still have her bloodstain on my shoe.” He shuddered.

“How many people have you saved?” Nathan asked, suddenly curious.

Warren didn’t look comfortable answering the question for some reason. Drawing his gaze to his hands and speaking in a low tone. “You, Chloe, Frank, Frank’s dog.”

“Frank?”

“Chloe shot him when we first met. It wasn’t lethal, but it wasn’t pretty either.” 

“So why do you look like someone took a piss in your shoes?”

“I’m just thinking of all the people I didn’t save. Kate, Max, Rachel, even Frank lost his fingers because of me.”

 

“It’s not your _job_ to save people,” Nathan pointed out. 

“Yeah, but I’m the only one who can. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Spiderman fucks up sometimes too, you know. Isn’t that, like, his whole backstory?” He wasn’t sure. Victoria knew more than he did. 

Warren crossed his arms. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You saved _me._ That’s more than enough for you to get off on your hero-complex, in my opinion.”

Warren licked his lips, swallowed. “It’s not easy seeing someone die.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

Joyce returned them, meals in hand. She gave them a warm smile and another thank you before she left to go attend the other customers. There was a smiley face drawn on his waffles with whipped cream. Appreciation swelled in his chest, reminding him of the time they first met. 

Warren’s tense demeanor melted after the first bite of his burger. He gave an embarrassed chuckle and flicked his gaze away from Nathan. “Since when did my life turn into a movie?”

“You tell me.” Nathan poured a generous amount of syrup on his waffles, square by square. “Not as cool as you thought it would be?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t cool. I just thought it would pan out differently. Become a superhero, save the day, get the girl. Now _that’s_ how I was hoping it would go.”

 _Get the girl._ Of course Warren’s straight, Nathan never considered otherwise. Never thought about it because who thinks about their friends’ sexualities? Not normal people, that was for sure. And Warren had the biggest boner for Max, so no matter how you looked at it, Warren was into girls.

Why the fuck had Nathan gone on this tangent? 

He shook the thoughts out of his head furiously and forced himself to focus on reality. “That sounds boring,” Nathan answered, trying hard to act like he hadn’t just gone on a completely different line of thought. 

 

ooo

Trees and posts whizzed by them as they drove through the coast. The AC and passenger window were still shit, but Warren was going fast enough that wind still circulated into the car nicely. Nathan had hooked up his phone to the AUX cord and Warren immediately took it upon himself to criticize his choice of music, calling it ‘emo’. Nathan huffed and was about to change it until Warren grinned at him and began singing along. 

_“In five hundred meters, turn left,”_ a mechanical voice from Warren’s phone rang out over the music.

“Turn left at the next intersection,” Nathan stated.

“I can hear her, you know,” Warren said.

“Uh, I thought you said I was in charge of navigation, Warren,” Nathan said in a mock serious tone. 

“Oh my God.” Warren acted annoyed but couldn’t hide his smile. 

All in all, it was the most fun Nathan had in months. They hadn’t uttered a single word about Rachel or Max since the diner and Nathan found he liked it that way. Every once in awhile, Dr. Bill’s suggestion would rear its head and Nathan had to forcibly try to remove himself from the mental intrusion. 

He came to the conclusion that even _if_ Warren was a girl, Nathan wouldn’t be into her. Rachel Amber was his type: racy, wild, rebellious, a fiend on her own. Warren Graham was as far away from Rachel as you could get. 

But then, he did have a thing for Hannah.

Nope, nope, nope. He wasn’t going to think about that, not now. Not while he was on a date with Warren trying to forget about the world. Wait, did he say date? God-fucking-damnit.

Warren must’ve noticed something, because he looked at Nathan and said, “You know, you still haven’t told me why you had a bad day.”

“I saw my psychiatrist today,” Nathan admitted. 

“That’s good.”

“He’s a jackass.”

“That’s bad.”

Nathan tugged on his seatbelt, hating the way it constricted his chest. Warren’s only rule when riding the car was that he had to buckle up. They’d argued at first, but Warren’s stubbornness won out over Nathan’s. Fucking stupid. “All he cares about is milking my family for money, keeping me doped up on pills, and keeping my father happy. He doesn't give a shit about me.”

“That sucks.”

“It feels more like an interrogation than anything. He gathers info on me and delivers it straight to my dad.”

A crease appeared between Warren’s brow. “That's malpractice. He could get in trouble for that.” 

“And who's gonna turn him in? He and everyone else in this town is in my father’s pocket. I can't do shit about it.”

Warren pursed his lips, obviously disturbed by this information. “I'm sorry you have to go through that.” 

“Yeah, well, whatever. I'm used to it.” Nathan leaned his seat back and propped his feet on the dashboard. “I’ve been getting better, despite it. And the meds have been helping. I just gotta know which ones to take and when.” 

Warren didn't say anything to that, only offered a shy smile. It wasn’t much, but Nathan appreciated it all the same. He decided to change the subject. “How’s Advanced Photography treating ya?”

“Dude, I have _so much_ work to do if I want to catch up. Like, holy shit. I’m running on like two hours of sleep per day.”

“Yeah, Jefferson _loves_ giving homework. Honestly, sometimes I just give him photos I took, like, months ago and turn that in. It’s not like he can tell the difference.”

“I only have three photos left to turn in, all themes. The first one is ‘Environmental Storytelling’, the second is ‘Emotion’, and the third ‘Beauty’. I was thinking about going to American Rust tomorrow for the first one. I don’t know about the others, I guess I’ll wing it.” 

“I remember that project. I went to an abandoned house for the first one, full of metheads.” Nathan saw Warren scrunch his nose at the thought. “For ‘Emotion’ I took a picture of a drunk guy at a bar that kept ordering glass after glass. He had his head buried in his arms and, like, six glasses of hard vodka surrounding him. The jukebox was glowing in the background, the bartender cleaning glasses looking at him with disgust, the dim lighting that settled just over him, man,” Nathan sighed, “I really liked that photograph. It was one of the few where I kept it in color. Black and white looked good, sure, but the atmosphere just looked so—Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Asked Warren, like he didn’t have a dumb fucking smile on his face. 

“Like _that,_ you’re grinning like an idiot.”

“You know you get this look on your face when you talk about photography.”

“No, I don’t.” Suddenly self-conscious, Nathan poked at his face.

“Yeah, you do,” argued Warren. “Your eyelids get droopy and you have this big smile on your face the whole time. Like you’re recalling a really good memory from your childhood or something. It’s nice.”

Nathan huffed, crossing his arms and letting his features slide into a frown. He could feel his face getting hot and he turned away from Warren. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing Nathan Prescott _blushing._ It was just a stupid compliment. 

Warren didn’t ask about the third photograph which was just as well because he never turned it in.

ooo

They arrived at Newberg just in time, when the sun was no longer visible on the horizon and the sky was tinted a light purple. Warren parked in the back row, the farthest away from the rest of the hipster wannabees.

Nathan and Warren were sitting on the hood of the car, doors open and the radio already tuned in to the Drive-In’s station. The movie hadn’t even started yet and they were already halfway through their bag of popcorn. It was no wonder, with Warren devouring it like he was a fucking vacuum cleaner, shoving handfuls of the stuff into his mouth. Nathan found it more disgusting than endearing.

“You know, most people wait until the movie starts _before_ they start inhaling their popcorn,” he said.

Warren spoke through mouthfuls. “Don’t worry about it, I came prepared,” he went back into the car and pulled out his backpack, “check it.”

It was full to the brim with all kinds of snacks. Chips, chocolate, candy, soda, you name it. Of _course_ Warren stocked up on junk food. Nathan didn’t have it in him to act surprised.

Nathan had been about to give him a sarcastic retort when the projection lit up and sound began pouring out of the car’s speakers. Warren pulled out a family-sized Doritos bag and began munching, his attention completely fixed on the giant screen. Nathan let the reply die in his throat, choosing to reach into Warren’s bag and watch the movie in silence.

Hanging out with Warren was so much different than hanging out with Rachel. Innocent wasn’t how he would put it, but it was the closest thing he could compare it to. There wasn’t any drinking, or partying, or drugs. It was going out to eat at a family restaurant or going on a drive or watching movies. The kind of fun he used to have with Victoria, the kind of fun that became less and less frequent as they got older.

Rachel, however, was a hellraiser. Destructive. It was partying until they couldn’t walk straight, being so loud their throats got sore, vandalizing, running away from the law, getting high as a motherfucking kite, fuck, Nathan missed her so goddamn much.

He found comfort in the fact that they were so different, however. Because Nathan couldn’t—wouldn’t—fall for someone so safe.

He reached into his varsity’s pocket and pulled out a bag of pot with a colorful glass pipe. Lighting it up, he took a long drag and felt the heat settle in his lungs. This was what he needed. The warmth in his chest was soothing, relaxing him before the actual plant took its calming effect. Beside him, Warren stopped mid-chew and turned his head to look at him. 

“You brought weed,” he deadpanned.

Nathan exhaled, the smoke was colorless. “Are you surprised?” 

Warren pursed his lips. “Not really.”

“Want a hit?”

Warren looked at the pipe, then back at Nathan. “No, thanks.”

Nathan laughed at the uncertain look on Warren’s face. He took another drag. “Of course you wouldn’t. You look like the poster boy for an anti-drug campaign.”

Warren frowned at that, his lips coming together into a small pout.

“Come on,” Nathan continued. It was so much fun to tease him. He already felt the haze start to come in. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. Live a little.”

Warren huffed at that, taking the pipe from Nathan’s hand. “Shut up.” 

To Nathan’s surprise, he brought the pipe to his lips, waiting for Nathan to light it. Nathan did, placing the flame underneath it and instructing Warren to inhale. “Breathe in, let it settle in your lungs, then let go.”

Warren followed the instructions diligently, but ended up coughing the smoke out. 

A giggle bubbled up Nathan’s throat. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Try again.”

Warren had a look of total determination as he inhaled, held his breath, and released it without trouble. “This isn’t addictive, right?” 

“Only in the metaphysical sense,” Nathan replied. “Your body is cool with it, but your mind is just,” he brought his fingers to his temples and made a gesture like an explosion, complete with sound effects. 

Nathan brought the lighter underneath the pipe in Warren’s hand, asking for permission with a crooked grin. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Warren returned the expression and brought the pipe to his lips.

ooo

After a few more hits—Nathan and Warren passing the pipe back and forth—they developed into a giggling mess. They moved to the roof of the car, sitting so close they had to press against each other; their shoulders and thighs touching. It wasn’t too comfortable, but Warren was so soft that Nathan wasn’t complaining. The movie played in front of them, forgotten.

“First broken bone?” Warren asked.

“Nose. Eighth grade,” Nathan said, poking at the bridge of his slightly crooked nose.

“How’d that happen?”

“Got in a fight with this kid. His name was… Shit, I don’t remember his name, but he hated my guts. I probably did something to piss him off.” Nathan’s face pinched as he tried to remember. “Or he pissed me off. Could have gone either way. I don’t remember much, I was heavily medicated during that time.”

“Medicated or _medicated?”_ Warren said, motioning to the pipe. 

Nathan released a bark of laughter. “Both, probably.” They fell into a giggling fit, bumping their shoulders together.

Warren was the first to stop. “When did you—”

“Nope,” Nathan sloppily pressed his hand over Warren’s mouth, silencing him. Warren whined in protest. “It’s my turn.”

Nathan wasn’t sure who started it—probably Warren because it seemed like exactly the kind of thing he would suggest—but they began playing a game where every time they would take a hit, they had to answer a question about their first whatever. 

He struggled to come up with a question. “First F?” 

Warren’s nose scrunched, like even the thought of it disgusted him. “I missed a whole semester of school once.” 

“Seriously? Why?”

“I was at the hospital for a while. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Long enough to miss a semester.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Warren repeated. He broke one of the rules then, lighting up the pipe and taking another inhale. 

Yeah, that was reassuring. Nathan wanted to prod, but Warren spoke before he had the chance. “When was the first time you tried this?” 

“Thirteen,” Nathan answered. “I was at a high school party with a bunch of older kids I didn’t know. It’s how I met Frank.”

“Frank hooked you up?”

“Yeah, we go way back. He was a creep then too. The best at getting kids hooked up at a young age.” Nathan shrugged. “First drink?”

“Do sips as a kid count?”

“Why the hell not.”

“Don’t know how old I was, but I had a sip of my mom’s wine once. I spit it out and ruined the tablecloth.”

Laughter bubbled up from both their throats.

“First girlfriend?”

Nathan didn’t know why, but found the idea of Warren asking him about his girlfriends absolutely hilarious. Maybe it was because he’d been thinking of what it would be like to have Warren as a girlfriend. _That_ was funny.

“Never had one. I’ve had a couple of flings but nothing serious.”

Warren gave him a goofy grin as Nathan passed the pipe to him.

“First kiss?” Nathan asked.

“My dog,” Warren answered without missing a beat. “Circa 2008.”

Nathan’s cheeks hurt from giggling so much. “That’s not what I meant, you sicko.”

Warren took a long drag, burning the last of the weed left. “Haven’t kissed anyone yet. I know, I’m a loser, laugh it up.”

Nathan did, but only because the thought that Warren hadn’t kissed anyone yet made him so inexplicably giddy. 

Warren’s eyes glued to the projection. “Oh shit, this is my favorite part!”

The last of Nathan’s giggles left him in a soft breath and he uttered, “You’re my favorite part.”

Warren didn’t hear him, his gaze fixed on the screen.

God, he was so fucking pretty. The way the dim light of the car and the projector lit up his face and shined on his eyes ever so slightly… Nathan wanted to kiss his face. Just, everywhere. His eyes, his cheeks, his head, his lips. They would be soft too, Nathan knew they would be soft.

“Whoa, this movie is so fuckin’ deep, man. The apes are _us,_ you know? Like, humanity. I can’t believe I never realized it before, holy fucking shit.” Warren rambled, his gaze wide and unblinking on the screen. With a fond smile, Nathan turned his face away from Warren and resumed watching the film. 

ooo

It was past midnight by the time the marathon was over. The roads were mostly empty, save them, streetlamps were becoming more and more scarce and trees were taking their place alongside the cars. The radio was low, playing some sleepy acoustic song that Nathan found buried deep in his phone. 

The ride was mostly silent with Warren driving quietly for once, too tired to gush about the films or whatever science shit he wanted to drone about. His posture was slouched over the steering wheel, weary eyes blinking tiredly. There were dark circles under his eyes, barely discernable over the bruises.

Nathan kept himself from staring; a feat that should not have been as difficult as it was. He couldn’t stop thinking about how embarrassing he was while high. Knocking shoulders with Warren, leaning into him, fuck, he even timed when he would reach for the chips so his hand would brush Warren’s and _what the fuck was wrong with him?_

He didn’t have a crush on Warren. How could he, when he’d never even looked at guys that way before. Dr. Bill had planted those thoughts in his head, as he always did, just to get a rise out of him. Some kind of mental manipulation bullshit.

And even _if_ —Nathan shuddered—if he were into men, he didn’t think Warren would be his type. Not that he wasn’t good looking, if anything his whole ‘dorky geek look’ could be somewhat endearing. To other people. Who were into that. Goddamnit. 

Warren released a soft sigh next to him. Nathan forced himself not to look, focusing on the road. Now was not the time to have a crisis. He had to push the thoughts from his mind, deal with it later. Not while Warren was sitting right next to him. Nathan would get back to Arcadia, go to a club, fuck a random chick with huge tits, and everything would be set right again. He sank lower in his seat. The thought of that usually excited him more.

Over by the distance, Nathan saw a doe wander over to the road. He didn’t pay that much attention to it, since it would probably run away when Warren stopped. No big deal.

But Warren wasn’t even slowing down. 

Nathan looked at him. He looked half-asleep, sure, but there was no way he didn’t see the doe. 

“Warren,” Nathan warned.

Warren hummed in response, but made no indication of stopping.

“Warren,” Nathan repeated, more harshly.

Warren turned his head to look at him and Nathan nearly had an aneurysm. _Why the fuck wasn’t he stopping?_ “What?” 

The doe wasn’t moving either, its ears perked up and its eyes wide staring at the headlights. Getting closer. “Warren, fuck, the _doe!”_ Nathan shouted, receding back into his seat.

Warren’s eyes widened and flicked between them. “Wait, you can see it too?” 

_“Warren!”_

Warren swerved harshly, the wheels making a high screeching sound, smoke and the smell of burning rubber as the car slid on itself and fell down the embankment. One roll, two rolls, Nathan’s head hit the windshield, the airbags hit him in the face, a wet splashing sound, half a roll, gravity felt wrong.

Then everything stopped. Nathan wondered idly if he had developed time powers too, everything was so still. Heavy breathing from him and Warren, the sound of water running… the radio hadn’t survived. 

It took a while for his thoughts to get in order, though probably only two seconds had passed. Warren reacted before he did, shaking his arm urgently and saying, “Nathan, are you okay?”

“Holy fuck,” was all he could say.

The car landed on a shallow creek, the drivers side pinned against the floor, Nathan’s side in the air. The seatbelt was suffocating him, and Nathan resented it, despite it being the only reason he was alive. 

Warren, faster than he was, worked on removing his seatbelt and figuring out how he was going to climb out of the car. After seeing him Nathan’s hands moved to open the passenger door and unbuckling his own seatbelt.

“Can you get out?” Warren asked. “Are you hurt? Are your arms okay? Do you need me to—”

“I’m _fine,”_ Nathan snapped. His head hurt from when it hit the windshield, but other than that, he felt alright. Nathan worked on climbing out, using the seat as purchase. “Are _you_ okay?”

“I haven’t checked yet,” Warren said, following Nathan. “I think so.”

Nathan jumped from the car, hoping it wouldn’t tip over, but it was surprisingly steady. His feet splashed on the shallow creek which came up to just above his ankles. He hissed. The water was so cold it burned.

Warren jumped out after him, Nathan holding him steady as he landed. The entirety of his left side was soaked with freezing water. He also had a shallow cut on his cheek, right under his eye. 

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” said Warren. He checked Nathan before he checked himself, wide eyes raking over his body frantically. “Are you hurt? Holy shit, I am so sorry. I didn’t know—Shit, are you okay? How’s your head? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” 

Nathan slapped away his hand. “What the fuck happened? Did you not see the fucking doe that was in the middle of the fucking road? Are you fucking suicidal or some shit?” Nathan snapped, as he always did, because he was angry. He was angry and he was worried as fuck, _Warren almost died,_ he didn’t give a shit if _he_ died in a car crash in the middle of nowhere, but _Warren._

Warren looked away, a guilty expression on his face. Nathan was about to push, when he spoke, his voice so low that Nathan had to strain his ears to hear. “I didn’t think it was real.”

“You didn’t think _what_ was real?”

“The doe. I mean,” Warren’s gaze was kept down to his feet, studying the distortion in the freezing water. Getting frostbite would be the cherry on top of this awful situation. “I’ve been seeing things.”

“Things? What kind of things?”

“A doe. She doesn’t do anything, she’s just… watching. Like a ghost.” 

Warren had been seeing things? Like, _seeing_ seeing? The way Nathan saw things? And kept it from him? Nathan didn’t know why that hurt. It wasn’t like he was _entitled_ to know. 

And yet, Nathan had shown himself bare to Warren. They talked about his mental disorders, insecurities, fuck, Warren had even seen Nathan have a fucking psychotic episode first hand. Warren didn’t trust Nathan enough to tell him this huge detail? Fuck that. Nathan had a right to be pissed. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” He said, except that it didn’t come out as angry as he felt. It sounded hurt. Nathan hated that it sounded hurt. 

Warren made a pained expression himself, pursing his lips together and turning away. “I wanted to be sure what it was. I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy or something.” 

“Um, hello?” Nathan motioned to himself. “I’m the first person you should tell if you’re hallucinating. You really think I would judge you? Me?” 

Warren’s hand moved to rub at the back of his head. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. There’s something else though.” He moved, sloshing away from the creek and toward the embankment. Nathan followed him.

“I’ve been seeing,” Warren swallowed thickly, “I’ve been seeing Max.” 

“What?” 

“Not physically or anything. Sometimes when I rewind I see her. She doesn’t acknowledge me or anything, she’s just kind of there.”

“Dude,” Nathan’s jaw dropped. “Can you see dead people?” 

Warren’s eyes opened wide. “No! No, I-I don’t think she’s dead. God, I hope not.” 

“So why—”

“I don’t know. I’m seeing things and I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to figure it out but I don’t—I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on. The other day I saw an equation on Stella’s chalkboard.” 

“An equation?” 

“Astrophysics. Wormholes, exotic matter, tachyons. It was written on the board but only I could see it when I used my powers. I’ve been trying to work on it all night. It was in Max’s handwriting which doesn’t make sense because she doesn’t even take physics.” 

Nathan opened his mouth to speak but Warren beat him to it. “Tachyons are theoretical particles that can go faster than the speed of light. They’re nothing more than a theory, since it’s impossible for anything to go faster than the speed of light, because the faster something travels, the slower time goes as everything else catches up, until it stops completely. If something were to go _faster_ than that, time would be going backwards. Which—which really makes sense but at the same time _doesn’t_ make sense, because what does this have to do with me? How do my powers fit in? Hell, what if time isn’t even real? What if I haven’t been going back in time and I’ve just—just been jumping through wormholes and going from parallel universe to parallel universe and creating more and more timelines and _completely_ fucking up spacetime and the fabric of the universe, what if—”

As he kept going, Warren got more and more agitated, pulling at his hair, pacing back and forth, gasping short breaths, and Nathan stopped him before it could get worse. “Warren, Warren!” He grabbed Warren’s shoulders, forcing him to face Nathan. “I don’t think that’s it.”

Warren was far from consoled. “What if it _is?_ Do you know what that means, Nathan?”

The thought of Warren jumping from universe to universe, leaving him behind shook Nathan to the core. He couldn’t think about that. Not while Warren was in the middle of a mental breakdown. For once Nathan needed to be the stable one. “It’s not. Breathe.” 

Warren took a moment to compose himself, breathing through his nose, exhaling with his mouth. He shivered, rubbing his hands in a futile attempt to keep himself warm. Nathan couldn’t bear to see him like that, and offered his varsity. Warren looked at it with wide eyes, like it was some kind of invaluable artifact and refused it at first, concerned over Nathan like a fucking idiot. It took a while to convince him, but eventually Warren conceded, melting into the jacket and wrapping his arms around himself.

They sat over the edge of the creek, staring at the water’s lazy flow. Warren broke the silence first, as he always did. “I know I like to play scientist at school, but the only thing I’ve learned this month is that I don’t know shit.” 

“That’s fine. Most of us don’t. You’ll figure it out eventually, frying your brain won’t help,” answered Nathan.

There was another beat of silence, and Warren’s face fell. Nathan thought he would cry, but his voice remained steady. “I don’t think Max is here anymore.”

Nathan didn’t know what that meant, but neither did Warren. Seeing him so defeated killed Nathan. “Don’t give up.” 

“I’m not,” answered Warren. “I really think she’s gone. I don’t know if parallel universes are real, but,” he released a bitter chuckle, “it’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

What a crazy fucking month where that was the only thing that made sense. 

“What about Rachel?” Nathan asked.

“Rachel left a trail. I think she’s still around.” 

Nathan didn’t know what to think when it came to Rachel. Refused to think about it, convincing himself that if he thought about it he would go insane.

ooo

The car was fried. Aside from the driver’s side being smashed in (it was a miracle Warren had only walked out with a scratch), there were complications with the wheels and the engine that would make driving back to Arcadia Bay impossible. Warren had been slightly hopeful at first suggesting that they could try and tip it over and see if it worked. Nathan had walked to the underbelly of the car and pointed out an oil leakage. Running for even a few seconds without lubrication was enough to completely ruin the engine. “Let’s just say the pickup wasn’t my first car,” Nathan had told him. Or his second.

There wasn’t anything in the trunk, fortunately. Not anything important, Warren said. He climbed back inside to look for his camera, which survived intact. 

“What’s the plan, Warren?” Nathan asked as Warren made his way back to land. 

“Hillsboro is that way,” Warren pointed behind Nathan. “I don’t know how we’ll get back to Arcadia, but we’ll freeze to death if we stay here.”

“I got an idea.” He hated it, but Warren was right. They couldn’t spend the night wandering around in the dark. It pained him to do this, it really did, but they didn’t have any other choice. He took his phone out and dialed.

“What are you doing?” Warren asked.

“Calling in a favor.”

It took a few rings, but the call went through. _“Hello?”_

“Hey, bitch,” Nathan replied.

 _“Who the fuck is this?”_

“Your favorite asshole, that’s who.”

“Is that Chloe?” Warren asked. He had moved so that his ear was pressed against the back of Nathan’s phone. Nathan tried to ignore the proximity and how warm it made him feel.

_“Oh my fucking god. Prescock? Why the fuck are you calling me? How do you know my number?”_

“I need you to pick us up at Hillsboro.”

_“Did the drugs finally get to your head? Why the fuck would I help you?”_

Nathan clicked his tongue. “See, I don’t know if I’m remembering this right or if I imagined it but a few nights ago I saved your life.” 

_“Oh and you think that makes us even?”_ Nathan sensed where the conversation was going and moved away from Warren, pretending to pace away. _“You drugged me and took pictures, you sicko!”_

“Okay, first of all—” Nathan stopped. Pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deep. Now was not the time to lose his temper. “Fine. Fine. In that case,” he needed a new strategy. What would his father do? “After last Monday, I bet you’re not buddy-buddy with Frank anymore, am I right?” 

She scoffed. _“That’s an understatement.”_

“Let me hook you up.”

_“As if. I know you cut your shit with cheap laxatives. Like hell I’m buying from you.”_

God, this fucking bitch. “Okay, first, they’re expensive laxatives, okay? Not that the idiots at Blackwell could tell the difference anyway. Secondly, I’m going to sell you weed. Not crack.”

_“You look like the kind of guy that would charge twenty bucks for a gram of oregano.”_

“To twelve year olds, yeah. Come on, I’ll give you the good shit.”

Chloe didn’t say anything, like she was considering it.

Nathan decided to give her a push. “Where else are you going to get it? Online?”

_“You’ve made your point. But even if I could pick you up step-douche went total psycho over the break in. He took my car keys. Frank tries to kill me and I’m the one grounded.”_

“So find them.”

_“You can’t see me, but I’m flipping you off.”_

“Yeah? Well you can suck my—” A click signified that she hung up.

 _“Fucking bitch,”_ he hissed under his breath.

He turned back to Warren who stood behind him, brows damn near his hairline. “I’m sorry, did my ears deceive me or did I just hear a drug transaction?”

Great. Just great. Nathan had never bothered to keep the drug dealing shit a secret—if anything, he was known for it. The look on Warren’s face told him he wasn’t as infamous as he thought. Whatever, it wasn’t like it was a big deal. 

“Yeah, whatsit to ya? Are you seriously surprised?” 

Warren made a face like he was thinking about it. “A bit. I mean, I knew you were into drugs recreationally, but I didn’t know you, uh, distributed.” 

“Let’s just say I distribute recreationally.” 

“Nathan, that’s really dangerous. Look at what happened to Frank; he got two of his fingers cut off!” 

“Frank’s an idiot, that’s not going to happen to me.” 

“How can you be so sure? I’m sure if you asked Frank a few years ago he would say the same thing! You can get hurt.” 

“Warren, I guarantee you that will never happen to me. Like, ever. So drop it.” 

Warren didn’t like it, that much was evident, but what the hell was Nathan supposed to do? So he sold drugs to kids, yippity-doo-dah, he wasn’t _that_ deep in the drug business. He bought from Frank and distributed at school, that was it. Frank had to buy his shit wholesale from the source, _that’s_ why he got fucked. But he couldn’t explain that to the guy with the hero complex, could he?

“Whatever,” Warren said. And Nathan was glad to drop the subject. “So, Chloe’s picking us up?”

“Yep. She’s not happy about it either. Her car got confiscated, _again,_ so she says it’ll take a while. We should walk to the town and wait there, so we don’t freeze to death.”

Nathan began walking up the embankment when he was stopped by Warren’s hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” Warren said. “Look.” Nathan turned around and saw the doe that caused the crash drinking water from the stream. 

“You see it, right?” Asked Warren.

“The doe? Yeah, she’s real.”

“Not that,” said Warren. He pulled out his camera and then Nathan saw it too. 

“That would make a good shot.” The lighting that came from the lamppost over the bridge was dim, but reflected over the water. The doe drank next the wreckage. It hadn’t seen Nathan and Warren yet, but the moment Warren would move to get a good angle it will run. He would only get one shot at this.

The sound of the creek washed over Warren’s noisy footsteps as he got closer. Nathan watched with rapt attention as he made his way over and took the shot. The camera made a clicking noise and the deer started, looking up and running when it saw Warren.

“Did you get it?” Nathan asked.

His answer came in the form of Warren’s grin as he looked at the photo. “Heck yeah, come see.”

It was good, Warren chose a great angle that covered everything. It wasn’t a perfect picture, though, Nathan would have changed the settings more and not have it be so zoomed in, but it was still a good subject. 

“Environmental storytelling,” Nathan said.

ooo

The midnight air was biting and freezing wind blew in harsh spurts, forcing Nathan to walk stiffly, hands deep in his pockets. Warren fared a bit worse, his clothes refusing to dry with the wind. Except that he hadn’t seemed to have gotten the memo because he kept chattering away, somehow in high spirits despite the fiasco earlier.

“—and when Miss Grant came by the office the other day I didn’t know if I should’ve been flattered or embarrassed. But then, the next day, she pulled me aside after class and told me that Moira, Wells’s secretary, told her what _actually_ happened and she was stuck between praising me and chewing me out. She told me I was brave but stupid and that I should have called the police instead of acting like ‘Rambo’.”

“Oh yeah because throwing a gun at Frank’s head is _totally_ something Rambo would do.”

“I didn’t see you coming up with any ideas.”

 _“I_ can’t rewind time.”

Warren sighed softly, burying his hands underneath his armpits. “I like Miss Grant. I wouldn’t be in Blackwell if it wasn’t for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was a guest judge during a science fair presentation back at my old high school. She saw my project, a homemade spacecraft with a live video feed, and was impressed. She told me to apply to Blackwell and that she would put in a good word for me.”

“And that’s how you became teacher’s pet.”

“Can you blame me? She reminds me of my mom sometimes.”

Nathan snorted. “Your mom is an overprotective black woman?”

Warren chuckled lightly at that, and looked down at his feet, going out of his way to step on a crunchy autumn leaf. “No. She was strict, but nice. And, yeah, overprotective.”

A crease formed in Nathan’s brow. “Was?” 

“She died when I was eleven. Miss Grant knows, which is why I think she’s so… extra with me.”

Nathan turned to look at Warren, who was pointedly staring at the ground, kicking a piece of gravel around. This was the first Nathan heard of this. A sick feeling wormed in Nathan’s chest. The same feeling when he found out Warren had been keeping his visions a secret from him. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“What, that my mom died? I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Well… he had a point. 

“Right, sorry,” Nathan said. 

“Besides, it’s not a big deal. That was years ago, I’m fine.”

“How did she die?”

“Car accident. Clichéd, I know.” Warren stopped walking, ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just that… earlier, when I crashed the car, I got so fucking scared. The car rolled over the hill, I heard you smack your head against the window, and,” Warren paused, his adam’s apple bobbed. “I fucked up. Even if it was a fake doe, I should have stopped. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Warren, it’s cool. Water under the bridge.” Nathan watched the corner of Warren’s lips twitch at the pun. “I’m fine. There’s no point in torturing yourself over something that didn’t happen.”

“You’re right.” Warren and Nathan exchanged a smile. Then, Warren’s smile slid and he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “What am I gonna tell my dad? I just got that car two weeks ago. We’d been saving up for months.”

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you another one. How much did it cost? Twenty bucks?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” Warren shoved him playfully and resumed walking. 

Nathan took a moment before following him. He stared at Warren’s back, at the shadows formed by the creases in Nathan’s jacket. A familiar yet forgotten feeling clenched in his stomach. Something he hadn’t felt since… he wasn’t going to think about that now. 

He did a half-jog to catch up with Warren and fell into pace beside him. They walked quietly for a few minutes, past closed shops and dark houses. 

“Great, everything’s closed,” said Nathan. “What the fuck are we gonna do until Chloe gets here? I can feel my balls solidifying from the cold.”

“That’s a nice mental picture.” Sarcasm dripped from Warren’s words. “It’s almost two in the morning, I don’t think there’s any place that’s going to be… Wait, I think I hear something.”

Nathan didn’t hear a goddamn thing, but he wasn’t about to argue with the guy with superpowers. They followed the sound, which led them to a college campus. Drunk twenty-year olds stumbled past them, laughing boisterously and using each other as a support. Nathan could hear a dull bass leaking from one of the buildings. 

There it was. The sweet, _sweet_ sound of a party. Strobe lights flashed through the windows of the bar and intoxicated college kids loitered around the area, drinks and cigarette stubs between their fingers. 

To his surprise, Warren was the one who spoke. “Looks fun, wanna check it out?” He asked with a grin. 

Nathan eyed the bouncers at the front door. They wore varsity jackets and had a ‘no nonsense’ look on their faces. He felt like he just got shown a glimpse of Logan and Zachary’s future. “They’re not gonna let us in without ID.” 

“Not with that attitude.” Warren headed towards the building. Nathan followed closely behind. They approached the door and Warren greeted the bouncers with an easy going smile. “Hey, what’s up guys? Cold night out, huh?”

The bouncer only crossed his arms and said, “Student ID, please.”

“Okay, have a nice day.” Warren turned around and walked away. 

Nathan slow clapped. “Wow, great job team, that was definitely a good effort. Maybe next time you can say ‘pretty please’ and bat your eyelashes at them. That’ll persuade them.”

Warren gave him a dramatic pout. “You wound me, Nathan. I’m hurt. Seriously hurt. I guess I should give these wristbands to someone else. Someone who actually _appreciates_ the effort I go through to try and get us into a college bar.” He pulled out two yellow wristbands from his back pocket and presented them to Nathan with a cheeky smile.

At Nathan’s gaped expression, Warren continued. “The guy in the back door over there doesn’t check for ID as long as you have these wristbands, and I thought it would be a good idea to get in.”

“You son of a bitch,” Nathan said with a grin. He reached for the wristbands but Warren pulled them away. 

“Nu-uh-uh. Not until you admit I’m the best.” 

Nathan rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re the best,” he grumbled to himself.

With a self-satisfied smile, Warren told Nathan to extend his wrist. Nathan could have told him that he could put it on himself. He could have. But he chose to present his wrist and let Warren tie the wristband around it. He felt Warren’s warm fingers touch his skin as he worked through it and he could’ve sworn that the touch lingered for longer than it had to. But it was probably just his false hopes. Hopes of what, Nathan didn’t know. 

Warren presented his wrist next and Nathan carefully wrapped the band around it. His thumb stroked the adhesive, over Warren’s veins. His fingers slightly curling underneath Nathan’s hand. 

Nathan pulled away when he realized what he was doing, though his fingers dragged over Warren’s hand as he did. Warren didn’t say anything, only stared at him with slightly parted lips that Nathan wanted oh so badly to feel and fuck, _what the fuck was wrong with him?_

“Come on,” Nathan said, walking past Warren and towards the bouncer. “At this rate they’re going to arrest us for loitering.” Warren seemed dazed at first, before giving a brisk nod and following Nathan. The bouncer stared at them skeptically, but relented when they presented their wristbands. 

The party was in full swing. The music was so loud Nathan could feel it in his bones, bass rattling inside his chest. His core temperature changed drastically, heat radiating from at least a hundred bodies pressed close on the dance floor. The bright colors of tacky neon signs were nearly overwhelming, brought out by a blacklight that made their skin and the whites of their eyes glow. This was it. This was where Nathan belonged. He felt like he could get high off the atmosphere alone.

Warren and Nathan looked at each other, exchanged a grin, and made their way over to the dance floor.

ooo

It had only been fifteen minutes but Nathan’s body already burned from dancing. Somebody had offered him a drink and he downed it in one go, part of it splashing over his face and dripping over the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t nearly strong enough to get him tipsy, but he had a good time all the same. He had lost sight of Warren some time ago, his attention fractured between some giddy drunk girls that approached him. 

“You’re _such_ a good dancer,” one of them slurred. She had a sash across her chest that read ‘Birthday Girl’. “Where did you learn?”

Hundreds of hours of playing _Just Dance_ with Victoria flashed in his mind. “I guess I’m just a natural,” he lied.

“Seriously, you should teach us to dance,” said another one of the girls. “You could be part of a dance troupe. My ex-boyfriend was a performance arts major and he was _terrible.”_

“Uh-huh.” Nathan really couldn’t care less, if he was being honest. His eyes raked the crowd for a sign of Warren. He had been half-heartedly looking for him ever since they split up, slightly worried that he wasn’t doing well. Warren didn’t seem like a partygoer kind of guy and the last thing Nathan needed was finding him moping in a corner by himself. 

“I’m exhausted, do you wanna take a break?” The Birthday Girl asked.

Nathan shrugged. He could’ve kept going if he wanted to, but maybe he could find Warren sitting by the bar. They sat on the barstool and Nathan automatically ordered a drink, forgetting that he had left his wallet at home. 

“So, what’s your major? I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus before,” The Not-Birthday girl asked. 

Where _was_ Warren? Had he left without him? The girl cleared her throat and Nathan’s attention returned to her. “Huh? I don’t know, photography, I guess.”

“Really? That’s so cool. Can you take a photo of me? I could be your muse,” she placed her hand on his arm. He glanced at it briefly and shifted his position away from her. 

“I forgot my camera.” Some large dude with sunglasses got right in the middle of his line of sight, blocking his view of the room. Nathan clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned his body back to the bartender.

The bartender placed a bright green drink in a martini glass in front of him, but Nathan didn’t feel like drinking it. “Here,” he pushed the glass towards the girl. 

“Oh my Gosh, a Sonic Screwdriver. Thanks! I’ve never had one, they’re so expensive.” She took a sip from the drink. The name made him think of Warren more. 

“Hey, Footloose,” the Birthday Girl tapped him on the shoulder, giggling. “You need to give that guy a dance lesson. He needs it.”

“What guy?” Nathan turned around to see—

Oh. My. God.

Warren was on top of one of the tables, dancing like a fucking maniac. The people around him were enjoying the show, laughing and throwing shit at his feet like he was a fucking stripper. He had a pink glow necklace on the top of his head and a ‘Birthday Girl’ sash around his midriff. 

His phone vibrated.

**[Chloe, Today 1:49 AM]**

_im at hilsboro_  
_were r u??_

Warren was working on removing his shirt and jacket as the crowd egged him on. 

**[You, Today 1:49 AM]**

_sent u the coordinates_

Nathan left the girls and pushed past the crowd to get to Warren. By the time he reached him, Warren had taken his jacket off and flung it to the crowd, landing perfectly on Nathan’s head. 

“Warren, what the fuck are you doing?” He yelled above the music.

“Nate! I’m havin’ the time of my life. You should dance with me,” Warren slurred over his words.

“Are you drunk?”

“Drunk off of life!” Warren began lifting his shirt. 

Nathan grabbed Warren’s hand and pulled him towards the floor. Warren stumbled a bit getting down. “Yeah, you’re drunk. How much did you drink?”

“One.” Warren took Nathan’s arms and began dancing again.

“One what?” 

“And a half.” 

He wasn’t getting an answer out of Warren anytime soon. “It’s only been fifteen minutes. How the fuck did this happen?”

 _“Only_ fifteen minutes? Please, time doesn’t apply to me.” So, time powers were involved. Warren swayed his hips to the rhythm and Nathan couldn’t help but stare. Warren wasn’t a good dancer, not in the slightest, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him apparently. 

“Come on, just _one_ dance. Then I’ll get outta your hair, I promise.”

Nathan should say no. He should grab Warren by the arm and force him to drink ten glasses of water while they wait for Chloe outside. 

But then Warren got close, pressed his hips against Nathan’s side, and he was done for. 

Warren danced like a white girl on her fourth shot of vodka, arms in the air and body pressed so close against Nathan they were practically grinding. Nathan danced just as badly, for kicks. For the first time, he didn’t care if anybody saw him dancing like a jackass with his best friend, he only cared about having fun. 

Wait, his what?

Warren stepped on his foot then, causing Nathan to take a step back. His back hit a table and knocked it over the floor, spilling half-finished drinks everywhere. 

“Watch where you’re going, jackass!” A girl screeched into his ear. 

“Hey, Footlose,” the Birthday Girl and the Not Birthday girl strode up to him, arms linked. “You have to pay for Alexis’s drink!” 

“Yeah, I can’t afford it!”

“Is there a problem here?” The bouncer from the front door approached them. He gave Nathan and Warren a scrutinizing look. “I don’t remember carding you.”

“You didn’t,” Warren giggled, leaning heavily on Nathan.

“Is he drunk? How old are you?” 

“He’s a photography major.”

“We don’t have a photography major.”

Nathan grabbed Warren’s arm. “Well, this has been fun, but we have to go.”

“Hey, wait!” 

He forcefully pulled Warren through the throngs of people, ignoring how Warren stumbled behind drunkenly. “Some time powers would be nice,” he told Warren, looking behind at the angry people that chased them. 

“Everything’s spinning,” answered Warren.

He pushed through the back door, cold air hitting him like a wave. The bouncer looked perturbed as Nathan dragged Warren out of the bar. He could see Chloe’s car at the end of the alley and ran for it. 

Chloe saw how they were running like a bat out of hell and opened the passenger door for them. Nathan climbed in first and pulled Warren inside, just as the angry bouncers reached the end of the alley. 

“Go, go, _go!”_ Nathan shouted and Chloe slammed her foot on the pedal, leaving everyone in smoke. 

Once they were away from view, Nathan let out a sigh of relief which turned into a chuckle, which turned into an all-out laugh. He covered his hand over his mouth to stop it. Warren gave a tired snigger. 

“Okay, what the fuck was that?” Asked Chloe, but she was grinning. “Must’ve been some party.”

“Oh you have no idea,” Nathan replied.

“I smell alcohol.”

“That’s me.” Warren raised his hand.

“I can’t believe I drove all the way out here two pick up your drunk asses from a party I wasn’t even invited to,” Chloe complained.

Chloe’s truck was an old, decrepit thing. Graffiti and old stains on every available space, crumpled up receipts and crushed soda cans around their feet. At least Warren had the decency to clean his car. The front had three seats which left Nathan sandwiched between Chloe and Warren. He leaned more to Warren’s side. 

“I should be charging you for making me ride on this old thing,” said Nathan.

“Oh no, I did not spend an hour getting here to listen to your sorry mouth. Shut it or I’m dropping you off the side of the road.”

Nathan knew it was an empty threat. He scoffed. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guys… No fighting,” Warren mumbled. His head leaned on the window and he had thrown Nathan’s jacket over himself. Nathan suspected he would be out like a light in just a few seconds.

“Just drive.”

ooo

Half an hour later, Nathan wished he could fall asleep as easily as Warren did. His head had been banging against the window and he ended up moving it to Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan didn’t shove him away. And he knew why. 

He… had a crush on Warren. It took a while for him to admit it, but the silent drive back to Arcadia Bay left him alone with his thoughts. Nathan didn’t know when it started, whether it was always there or if it was triggered by Dr. Bill psychoanalyzing him. Fuck, even if it was brainwashing, there was nothing he could do about it. 

He had used Rachel as a shield. Trying to convince himself that Warren was too different from her for him to develop any feelings whatsoever. But Warren had all the qualities he liked about Rachel. He could be a troublemaker, he knew how to have a good time, he could even be self-destructive if he wanted to. 

And he was kind to him, patient, understanding. Smart, fun, and fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ he was even attractive. Seeing him dancing on that table made him realize he was downright sexy and _goddamnit_ that would take some getting used to.

Nathan didn’t know what to do. Rachel was easy. A clear ‘boy meets girl’ situation and they flirted with each other since day one. Rachel was sexy and he could admit she was sexy because everybody knew it. 

Warren was a guy. There was no going around that. He didn’t look remotely feminine and somehow Nathan still found him attractive. Even without tits. He hadn’t thought it possible. 

Did that mean he liked guys? _Well, obviously,_ he thought unpleasantly. Nathan still liked girls, though. There was no way he didn’t. He could like both. That was a thing. 

God, Nathan was not prepared for this.

All he knew was that Warren made him feel _warm_ and that he craved it. Fuck, what if Warren returned his feelings? What would he do then? The thought gave him a fluttery feeling in his stomach. Probably not, he still had a boner for that hipster Max. Right now he was just fine with being friends. He prayed that this was just a phase and his feelings would evaporate once he had some good pussy. 

Warren sighed next to him.

Goddamn, he had it bad.

“I don’t trust you,” Chloe spoke.

“The feeling’s mutual, bitch.”

“I don’t know how the fuck you convinced him to be your friend. Walter doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that hangs out with rapists.” 

Nathan sucked in a sharp breath. Her words sparked a fire inside of him, a flame that licked at his chest and throat painfully. “First of all, it’s _Warren._ At least learn the fucking name of the guy who stood in front of a gun for you.” Nathan hissed, voice low so as for Warren not to wake up. “And for the last fucking time I. Wasn’t. Going. To. Rape. You.” 

“Then why did you drug me? That’s all I wanna know. Why did you drug and take pictures of me like some kind of creep?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you came to my dorm.”

Chloe flared her nostrils but hissed out, “Deal.”

ooo

_God, Nathan wished he was wasted. That much was obvious by the way he kept ordering drink after drink, but no matter how many beers he drank, he couldn’t get half as drunk as he wanted to._

__

__

_Fuck Mark Jefferson. Fuck him right in the ass. He didn’t have a fucking right to treat Nathan the way he did. He ignored Nathan, coldly dismissing his attempts for reconciliation, and throwing him out into the street like a fucking animal. It started after Rachel’s disappearance too, as if it were his fault she left._

__

__

_But that was the worst of it. Jefferson grew distant the moment where Nathan needed someone the most. He even changed the fucking passcode of the fucking studio like he was the one that owned it. Nathan wasn’t allowed anymore, apparently._

__

__

_He downed another drink and gave the bartender a hundred dollar tip. Nathan didn’t carry anything under a hundred and didn’t want to break out his credit card. The PIN was the same as the barn’s._

__

__

_Jefferson didn’t think he was good enough. He’d disappointed him in some way. God, Nathan knew that he knew how badly he needed his support. He just wanted to work together like they used to. To get that ‘good job, Nathan’ that he craved so badly. Was that too much to ask?_

__

__

_If only there was something he could do. Something to show Jefferson that he was still willing to continue their legacy. That he was still good enough to work together._

__

__

_“This seat taken?”_

__

__

_Nathan turned his head to see a punk chick with blue hair pull up the barstool next to him. Nathan knew her. Chloe. One of Rachel’s fuck buddies. The one that kept putting up the posters and whining to the police._

__

__

_An idea wormed in Nathan’s brain._

__

__

_“Only by you,” he answered._

__

__

_She gave him a smirk and sat down on the stool. Nathan raked his gaze over her, analyzing her. She could work. Get her alone, slip a pill into her drink. Nathan left the drugs back at his dorm, so he would have to get her there._

__

__

_“Can I buy you a drink?”_

__

__

_“I’m not gonna argue.”_

__

__

_Nathan called the bartender and took out his wallet. From the corner of his eye he saw Chloe’s fake smile drop as she gazed at the wallet hungrily. Ah, so that was why she was talking to him. Greedy fuckin’ bitch. It made him feel much more confident. If she was after his money he would play her like a fiddle._

__

__

_They flirted for god knows how long. An eternity by Nathan’s standards. First, he pretended to be drunker than he really was, to have her believe she had the upper hand. He bragged about how much money he had, watching her eyes light up and her body language change to get closer to him. He shot out some lame one-liners that were absolutely terrible, but forced her to laugh and put her hand on his knee._

__

__

_Then, finally, she leaned in close and he whispered to her ear, “I have a drugstore in my bedroom. Why don’t we have some fun?”_

__

__

_Her face pinched in disgust for a fraction of a second before she gave him her definition of a sultry look and said, “I thought you’d never ask.”_

__

__

_They made out on the cab ride. Nathan thought he was going to throw up halfway through. When he pulled away to give the driver a tip he saw her gag through the rearview mirror. It made him feel better to know that she hated this as much as he did._

__

__

_They locked lips as soon as they entered his dorm. Both playing the part of the horny teenager so well. She cupped her hand on his bulge: not his dick, his wallet. She was so fucking transparent. It was disgusting._

__

__

_Nathan grabbed the beers they took from the bar. “Here, let me open this for you. Help yourself, drugs are in the dresser over there.”_

__

__

_When she wasn’t looking, he slipped the crushed pill down the throat of the bottle. It would last a few hours, long enough to get her completely blacked out and dump her home with no recollection of anything. He turned to her, and gave her the drink. She gave him a bottle she opened herself and said, “I can open my own bottle, by the way.”_

__

__

_“Whatever you say, Princess,” he said, taking a swig._

__

__

_They finished their drinks quickly to resume with the foreplay and Nathan prayed to God himself that the drug would kick in before he would be forced to do anything beyond touching her nonexistent tits._

__

__

_Somebody must have listened to his prayers because he could feel her grow weak under him. Which was great, because he was drunker than he’d thought and wasn’t sure if he could keep this up for much longer._

__

__

_“Wait, stop,” Chloe mumbled, making a weak attempt to push him off. He did stop, and got up to get his camera. “I feel weird.” She looked at the empty beer bottle on the floor and put the pieces together. “What… what the fuck did you do to... my drink?”_

__

__

_Chloe stood up, which was a really bad idea, because the blood rushed to her head and made drug flow faster. She used the end table as support and Nathan hoped she didn’t break his favorite lamp._

__

__

_“Calm down, it’ll be over soon,” he said, yawning. He wished he hadn’t drank so much._

__

__

_There was a loud thud as she stumbled and fell to the floor. She made a few attempts to get up, each one weaker than the last. Nathan sat beside her, watching her eyes grow glassy and waited until she lost control of her limbs._

__

__

_He was so fucking tired. Nathan blinked slowly, finding it harder to keep his eyes open every time. He knew he shouldn’t have drank. He could have just pretended to be drunk and that would’ve been more than enough. But of course he had to make it convincing. The grip on his camera went lax and he leaned his head on his mattress. Nathan was just going to close his eyes for a few seconds. Just to ward off the dizzying feeling of alcohol._

__

__

 

_The clock read four in the morning when he woke up. His eyelids felt heavy and it was insanely difficult to move his arms. What the fuck had happened? Why was he on the floor?_

__

__

_The memories came to him with a start as he saw Chloe Price lying unconscious on the floor, her body curled into a fetal position._

__

__

_When had he fallen asleep? God, he was so fucking stupid. Nathan scrambled to his feet and got his camera ready in record time. How much time did he have left? He wished he had been paying attention to the clock when he drugged her._

__

__

_He would take a few quick pics and that was it. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all he could afford to do. He snapped a full body picture. It came out shitty. Why did he have to fall asleep?_

__

__

_Nathan would take a few pictures of her blank face and he was done. He crouched down next to her, and crawled closer, trying to get the perfect angle._

__

__

_He was so absorbed in getting the perfect image that he didn’t notice her squirming and blinking. The sound of a sharp breath was all the warning he had before Chloe threw out a disoriented kick. It didn’t hit him, but it knocked over his lamp, shattering it. Chloe then struggled to stand, and with tears in her eyes said, “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t—Don’t touch me!”_

__

__

_Nathan was too dazed to stop her from stumbling out of his dorm._

__

__

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! This was his fault. This was all his fault. All he had to do was take a few pictures and take her home. That was it! It was something he had done many times before, why did he have to screw it up now?_

__

__

_All he knew was Chloe was going to bring him trouble, and he was alone in fixing it._

__

__

ooo

“I wasn’t going to strip you down or touch you or anything. I just wanted to take a few pictures while you were drugged. I was going to drop you off at your house when I was done, and you weren’t supposed to remember a thing.”

Chloe clenched her jaw. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

“Why the fuck would I rape you when you were so willing to fuck me?” 

She didn’t have anything to say to that, only deepened her frown. “I wasn’t going to.” 

“What was your plan, then?”

“I didn’t have one,” she admitted. “Not at first. You were throwing out some hella cash and I wanted in. I didn’t know what I was going to do, so I played along and followed you to your dorm.” 

“A brilliant idea. I didn’t expect any less from you.”

 _“Then,”_ she spat, “we got to your dorm and you showed me your dresser with all the drugs in it. I found some sleeping pills and I slipped them into your drink.” 

Nathan’s eyes went wide. “You little snake! You drugged me!” 

“It’s not the same—”

“You fucking hypocrite. This whole time you’ve been acting like the fucking victim when you drugged me too.” 

“I wasn’t going to take pictures of you like some kind of perv.”

“No, you were going to steal from me.” Chloe’s grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to turn her knuckles white. “This whole time you pretended to be on the moral high ground when your plan was to knock me out and steal my cash.”

“Fine,” she gritted out between her teeth. “I don’t give a shit anymore. I just wanted to pay the money I owed Frank and have some left over for me and Rachel. I was desperate. Was that so bad?”

Nathan didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes. 

“You were an easy target. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Get a job?”

“Like you’ve ever worked a day in your life. Would you have even cared if a couple of thousand bucks was missing from your wallet? Would it even make a difference?”

The answer was no. It was hilarious. Everyone knew the Prescotts were the richest family in the town, possibly even in the state. But even then, the economic bubble they were in was so small they underestimated exactly how much money the Prescotts were worth. 

“Would you have cared if someone took a picture of you without you knowing?” Nathan replied.

“That is not the same thing, don’t even try to compare it.”

“Isn’t it? You wouldn’t have known. You would have woken up in your bed, not remembering anything past the cab ride. You would have probably convinced yourself that you passed out on the cab and I had to drop you off at home. Your life would have continued exactly the same way.”

Her eyes got wet. She didn’t reply. 

Warren stirred next to him, groaning something unintelligible. Nathan’s heart melted.

The rest of the ride was spent in a tense silence. Warren woke at some point, removing his head from Nathan’s shoulder and yawning. “Are we almost there?” He asked.

Nathan recognized the landscape. They were five minutes away from the school. “Yep.”

“Did I miss anything?” 

“Trees, trees, and more trees,” Chloe said.

Warren hummed tiredly. “Good.”

 

Chloe pulled up at the parking lot, which was currently free of security. Warren got out of the car and gave a wholehearted ‘thanks’ to Chloe and said that he owed her one, despite the fact that he saved her life a few nights ago. 

Nathan was about to follow suit when Chloe said, “Can I talk to you alone for a second?” Warren whipped his head at that, eyes wide in concern. 

“Whatever,” Nathan said. “I’ll meet you in a few,” he told Warren. Nathan shut the car door and Warren reluctantly left. 

“What now?” Nathan turned to Chloe to see that she was holding a set of large manila folders on her lap. “What’s this?”

“Tell me something, Prescott,” she took a shuddering sigh. “You said what happened to me happened to you. When you found out Rachel was… seeing other people.” 

_“We were fucking!” Nathan’s answer came before his brain could process it. “It’s the same exact thing that’s happened to you. We were fucking and she told me I was ‘the one’. Then, I found out she was fucking other people and everything went to shit!”_

Nathan shook the memory. “Uh-huh?”

“Does that mean you loved her?”

Nathan didn’t want to answer the question. Kept his mouth shut, hoping she would get the message. But she was stubborn, and wasn't going to continue until he answered it. "Yeah. I did.”

She nodded, and bit her lower lip. Like she expected the answer but wasn’t satisfied by it. “I was looking around for the keys in the garage when I found this.” She gave Nathan one of the files. He opened them hesitantly, not sure what they had to do with him. 

His breath caught in his throat as he found Rachel inside. Pictures, emails, information. Flipping the page he found that it wasn’t just Rachel, he found documents on himself, on Frank, on Jefferson, on everyone. Notes were strewn around, half coherent sentences and observations. Crazy theories.

“What the fuck is this?”

“David has been keeping secret files on everyone around Arcadia Bay. Rambo thinks he’s collecting enemy intelligence.” She pursed her lips. “He has my house under surveillance. There are cameras all over the house. He’s so fucking paranoid. I’d tell my mom about it, but after Frank I think she would take his side.”

Nathan didn’t really give a shit, he’d spent his whole life feeling watched. It looked like he and Chloe had something in common.

“This is all I could find around the time of Rachel’s disappearance. As much as I hate to say it, you and Warren are the only ones that have come so close to finding her. I can’t do this on my own. If I had someone else… I don’t know. Sometimes I imagine that if Max was around we would be looking for her together. But,” she paused, took a breath, “it’s fucking stupid, anyway. They’re both gone. Promise me you’ll find her.”

He looked over at all the folders with a frown. This… This was the final piece of the puzzle. With this he might figure out if she was at the barn that night. If _he_ was at the barn that night. If he was the reason she was gone.

Nathan wordlessly took the files and left the car, without giving Chloe any empty promises. 

He and Warren could figure it out. Connect the information. If anybody could figure it out, it would be Warren. But. Nathan couldn’t let Warren find out. If there was the slightest chance that what Jefferson said was true. That Nathan… God, he could barely let his mind process it. That Nathan killed Rachel. He didn’t think he could live with that information. 

Warren deserved somebody better than him. Somebody who could be honest with him. Someone who wasn’t so fucked up in the head they couldn’t tell if they actually killed a person or not. 

His grip went tight around the folders. He couldn’t let Warren know about this. About everything. It pained him, but he couldn’t let Warren get close to him. Not now, not ever.


	16. Out of Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, have I ever said how much I love you guys? I mean it, your support means everything to me and I'm really glad you guys love my silly fic. :*
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> Speaking of which, we got this amazing fanart [here](http://kennythedictator.tumblr.com/post/157365984018/after-reading-this-awesome-fic-i-felt-inspired-to) and [here](http://kennythedictator.tumblr.com/post/158401955718/walter-its-warren-more-fanart-for) by [kennythedictator!](http://kennythedictator.tumblr.com/)

_October 21_

Warren’s fingers tapped at his camera, switching from picture to picture, trying to decide which one to print out. There was the one of Nathan where he was caught unawares, eyes wide and mouth parted mid-sentence. There was also one they had taken together, arms slung across their shoulders, Nathan sticking his tongue out. Or maybe the one he took on Thursday, where Nathan was taking a picture of a bird’s nest that had fallen into the ground and shattered the eggs. 

Overall, it was one of the hardest choices Warren ever had to make.

He wanted a picture of Nathan to put up in his locker. Ever since the Drive-In, Warren had been walking with an unexplained spring in his step and a smile he couldn’t quite shake off. It was no figure, Saturday had been one of the most exciting nights in his life. Even if it did end with his car being totaled. At least he had a dramatic story to tell. 

He’d slept through the majority of Sunday and woke up to finish homework, so he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Nathan yet. With the exception of a few unanswered messages. 

Every alert on his phone had Warren on his toes, heart light on his chest until he realized none of them were from Nathan. But that was fine. Nathan was probably as swamped as Warren was. That was fine. 

He got a message from Stella, who had returned from her trip bursting with excitement, wanting to have lunch together so she could buzz all about her trip. Nathan and him had lunch together on Thursday and Friday, and Warren had hoped it would become a regular thing. 

It probably wouldn’t be, but that was okay, right?

None of his friends knew he was friends with Nathan. None of Nathan’s friends knew he was friends with him. It was a hard thing to explain. There would come questions of _how_ or _why_ and he would have to explain everything from the beginning. Searching for Max together, Nathan’s relationship with Rachel, time traveling… it was too much personal information. At least, that was Warren’s reasoning on it. Nathan and him had never talked about it, or even acknowledged how they kept their friendship underwraps. It was an unspoken thing.

That still didn’t mean Warren wasn’t bursting to talk about him.

When the lunch bell rang Warren loitered in the hallways, looking left and right for Nathan. He caught sight of him standing by the lockers surrounded by half of the Vortex Club. An overwhelming desire to walk up and talk to him surged in Warren. He almost did, but a hand clapped on his shoulder before he could take the first step. 

“Hey, Warren.” It was Stella. She had her phone pressed against her ear. “What do you like?”

Warren shrugged. “Video games, movies. Science fiction, mostly.”

She slapped his arm. “I’m talking about pizza, idiot.”

He took a second to think about it. “Pineapple.”

Stella gave him a weird look and repeated his order to the phone, then headed for the dorms. Warren looked over his shoulder, giving Nathan one last glance before he followed her.

ooo

Loud pop music and the intoxicating smell of pizza encompassed the dorm. Stella, Warren, Alyssa, Brooke, and Dana sat cross-legged on the floor of Stella’s room. Blankets and pillows were set comfortably underneath them, already full of crumbs and stains from messy eaters. It felt like a sleepover, if sleepovers were held at the middle of a Monday.

Stella had been describing the art gallery to them in vivid detail, going so far as to describe each of the artworks that were on display. Warren was happy for her, but his mind couldn’t stop thinking about how Nathan would have loved to talk about this and how excited he would have been, had he won the contest. A part of Warren still believed that he should have won. 

“San Francisco was gorgeous. Mind you, there wasn’t really a lot of time for sightseeing but I would totally go again if I had the time and money for it.”

“I went to San Francisco once,” Dana said, leaning back on her arms. “For a cheerleading competition. It was so beautiful, I’d go back in a heartbeat.”

“Did you get to see the bridge?” Alyssa asked. 

“From the airplane,” Stella lamented. “It was all a rush. We got to the hotel room Friday night, went to the gallery first thing in the morning, and then back to the airport Sunday noon. But, oh my gosh, guys, Mr. Jefferson is sooo cool. The other contestants at the gallery were having an after party, and, technically, Mr. Jefferson wasn’t supposed to let me go, _but_ he said that the whole point of the trip _was_ to encourage _‘networking.’_ If you catch my drift,” Stella winked. 

“So he actually let you go?” Brooke asked.

“Yes! It was so much fun, I got completely wasted. I barely remember anything.”

Dana chuckled. “That sounds like a good party.”

“You know it!” Stella laughed and raised her soda cup before chugging it. “So what did you guys do this weekend?”

Dana spoke up. “We’re planning the Halloween Bash and I can’t tell you much, but it’s going to be _so good._ We already have the decorations, we booked the DJ, and I’m working on my costume.”

“What are you going as?” Alyssa asked.

“Me and Trevor are doing couples costumes. He’s going as Jack Skellington and I’m going to be Sally.”

“How original,” Brooke deadpanned.

“And what are you going as? The Grouch?”

Everybody laughed, except Brooke who only shot an unimpressed glare at Dana. “I wouldn’t know, since _I_ spent the weekend studying instead of worrying about some inane holiday.”

“Come on, Brooke. Halloween is the best time of the year,” said Warren. “I don’t know what I’m going as yet, but it’s gonna be great.”

Stella clapped her hands. “Hey, maybe you could drive us out this weekend and we can go costume shopping!”

“About that…” Warren said. That was right, he hadn’t told anyone about the accident. “I sort of, maybe, completely thrashed the car.” 

Their reactions were instantaneous.

“What?!”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Details, Warren!”

He wondered how to retell the story without giving too much away. “I didn’t see a doe on the road until it was too late and I swerved to avoid her, right into a creek.”

Everyone’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Where?” Alyssa asked.

“Newberg.”

“What were you doing at Newberg?”

“I went to the Drive-In to see the Planet of the Apes marathon.”

Brooke frowned at that. “You went alone?” 

“No, I asked someone to go with me.”

Brooke froze at that, stared wide-eyed at Warren. Her cheeks turned red and she stood up, turned around, and left the room. The room remained in a stunned silence, everyone looked shocked, while Warren was just puzzled.

“I’ll go after her,” Alyssa followed Brooke out the door.

Warren was at a loss. “Uh, what was that all about?”

Stella was rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. “Oh, Warren. You can be such an idiot.” 

“Me? What did I do?”

“She has a crush on you, you freaking moron,” said Stella.

“Wait, what? No way.” Brooke? A crush on him? That made no sense. “She likes me as a friend.”

Dana snorted. “Just like you liked Max as a friend, huh?”

“How can you guys even _tell?”_

 _“Seriously?”_ Stella looked at him like she couldn’t believe what he was asking. At Warren’s blank expression she shook her head and started counting with her fingers. “Let’s see. She asked you to go to the Drive-In with her three times, used to walk you to class every day, she absolutely _hated_ Max, she spied on you with her drone so much that Miss Grant actually had to confiscate it, and she won’t stop talking about you. Like, ever.” 

When the words finally sunk into Warren’s brain, it was like someone had flicked a switch. “Holy shit.”

Dana and Stella were having the time of their lives, at least. Stella was laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach and Dana had to use her for support. “I can’t believe you’d be so oblivious!” 

All the times he raved about Max to Brooke suddenly cascaded on him like a wave. “Oh shit. I feel kinda bad now.”

“I don’t,” said Stella. “Do you have any idea how nasty she was to me when she found out I had a crush on you? Those were dark days indeed.” 

At that, Warren nearly had a stroke. “Wait, _what?!”_

Dana and Stella wheeze at the way he stared at them with his mouth gaped open and eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. “You—you had a crush on me?” Warren’s voice was raised an octave. It only made them laugh more. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Stella smacked her hands. “Warren! I could not. Have. Been. More. Obvious! You were so into Max that I could have been laying on your bed with roses and lingerie and you wouldn’t have noticed!” 

Warren felt heat flush against his neck and cheeks. Dana weakly slapped Stella’s arm. “Please stop! I can’t breathe!” 

“Like I said, you really, really liked Max so I backed off. Got over you pretty quickly, actually. Wish Brooke could say the same.” 

Warren was still reeling over this information. “Oh my God. Stella, I like you and all, but—”

“Please, spare me the rejection. I don’t think my heart could take it,” she placed a hand over her chest. 

“And Brooke? I-I don’t know. I don’t like her that way.” 

“But why not?” Dana said. She had calmed down for the most part, but her breathing was still heavy. “You two have so much in common. You like the same things, and you’re the smartest people I know. You would make cute science babies together.”

Warren tried to picture it, but couldn’t. It felt wrong. Brooke was like a… weird cousin. They got along and had the same interests, but that was it. “I think that’s the problem,” he answered. His brow furrowed. He never had to think about this before. “We talk about science and sci-fi, but that’s it. We’ve seen the same movies and know the same information. I like people that are different from me. Someone I can talk about anything with. Science is objective, our conversations are just us agreeing with the other.

“One of the things I like most about science is teaching people about it, you know? The disbelief when I tell them things that couldn’t possibly be real but are. When I show them a movie they hadn’t seen and they love it. And, more importantly, I like learning new things. Not just science, just having new experiences and going through adventures and making memories. Brooke’s great and all, I just don’t think she’s for me.” 

“Which brings us back to a _very_ important point,” said Stella, lowering her glasses down the bridge of her nose. “Who did you take to the Drive-In?”

He couldn’t tell them it was Nathan Prescott. Warren could already picture their reactions: disbelief, concern, questions, questions, questions. But he did want to talk about him, oh so badly. “It’s nothing like that. It was just a friend.”

 _“Just a friend._ Huh. Okay. So tell me, what were you guys doing?”

Warren chose his words carefully. “We had dinner at the Two Whales before we took off for Newberg. We got there and we just, you know, watched the movie.”

“And that’s _all?_ C’mon, give us the deets, Warr.” 

“Well, uh, we smoked weed together on the roof of the car. We laughed and talked throughout the whole marathon. I’d seen the movie about a million times before so it wasn’t like I missed out on anything—”

Stella gave a comical gasp. “You _smoked?_ You actually got high with someone? Warren Daniel Graham, I am _shocked.”_

Warren couldn’t help the cocky grin that slid on his face. “I got drunk too. We sneaked into a college bar and had some drinks. There was dancing and everything, it was pretty awesome.” 

“Are you hearing this?” Stella told Dana. “Our son. Our only son, engaging in debauchery! He gets this from your side of the family.” 

“How lewd!” Dana put on a faux-British accent. Warren’s cheeks hurt from laughing. God, he loved his friends. “You should be more like your friend, Brooke. She spends her weekends studying instead of having fun or going on dates.” 

“It wasn’t,” Warren gasped between laughs, “it wasn’t a date.” 

“Lying! To his own parents! I cannot believe this.” 

“I’m serious!” 

“Because everyone takes their ‘friends’ to a dinner and a movie.” Dana switched her voice back to normal.

“Do you remember when you told me this exact plan a few weeks ago, when you were going to ask Max? I very distinctly remember you had called it a date,” said Stella.

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“How?”

Warren had to take a moment to think about that. Far, far too long because Stella and Dana gave him a devilish grin. Why was it different? Because it was Nathan? “I had a crush on Max,” he said, but wasn’t fully convinced. 

“So there weren’t any feelings involved?” Dana asked. 

“I…” Warren trailed off.

“Tell me something, Warren. If there weren’t any feelings involved, why _did_ you take them to the Drive-In?” 

Stella nodded. “If it’s just a friend, why not take Brooke?” 

“Brooke is… It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same?” 

Stella and Dana were enjoying this. There was an amused glint in their eyes as they questioned him. Like they already knew the answer and were just waiting for him to figure it out.

“Brooke is just a friend,” answered Warren, before realizing he had fallen into their trap. 

“Oh?” Stella grinned like the cat that had caught the canary. “So it’s more than a friend?”

“Uh, maybe? I mean—”

“Let’s assess the situation,” Dana placed the discarded pizza box over her lap and Stella handed her a sharpie. “Talk to me. Why did you ask this… _friend_ to the Drive-In?”

Warren once again took a moment to choose his words, so as to not give anything away. “We’ve been hanging out a lot recently. And, they’ve done so much for me I guess I wanted to return the favor.” 

“But a Drive-In? That’s pretty intimate.”

Warren scratched the back of his head. “Is it? I don’t know, I guess I wanted to spend more time together.” 

“I see,” Dana scribbled something down on the cardboard. Stella leaned over to read it and clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle. Warren tried to look but Dana pressed the cardboard against her chest. “Next question: how often do you see each other?” 

“Almost every day for a while now.”

“Mhm, mhm. Do you consider your friend to be physically attractive?” 

Warren was about to laugh off the question, but decided to think about it, _really_ think about it. It wasn’t hard. Nathan was aesthetically attractive—well-dressed, neat hair, sharp features, eyes blue as copper benzoate, curved lips, the way his smile would light up his whole face, how he smelled like scented soap with a hint of peppermint cologne, that loose strand of hair that centered just above his forehead. A familiar, fluttery feeling swelled in his stomach, making Warren shift in his seat almost uncomfortably. 

Dana gave him a knowing smile. “Say no more,” she said. Warren had a feeling he knew what that meant. 

“One last question.” She wrote something down. “How do they make you feel?”

Great. Nervous. Good. Excited. Hopeful. Brave. Anxious. Happy. “Like I could do anything,” he said softly. A hint of a smile appeared. 

The girls exchanged a look. “Welp,” Stella clapped her hands. “We have reached a verdict.” 

Dana turned the cardboard to him. “You got it bad, boy.”

**DOES WARREN GRAHAM HAVE A CRUSH?**

****

**-YES**

****

**-ABSOLUTELY**

****

**-WITHOUT A DOUBT**

Doodles of hearts and arrows surrounded the list and a clumsy drawing of Warren with hearts for eyes. Oh.

_OH._

It made sense. Honestly, it made so much sense that Warren was surprised it didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks earlier. The way he couldn’t get Nathan off his mind, wanting to see him every day, taking constant pictures of him, god, it was almost an obsession.

“Oh my God,” was all he said. “I… I think you’re right. Holy shit.” Dana and Stella squealed, grins wide on their faces. “What should I do?”

“Go for it!” 

Go for it? What did that even mean?! He didn’t even know he was crushing on him thirty seconds ago! He didn’t know he liked _guys_ thirty seconds ago! When Warren thought about it, it sort of made sense, but not really, because he never had any friends before Blackwell and all the crushes he had were fleeting and unrequited and he never really focused on a boy before because there _were_ no boys to focus on but now there was one and, and… 

Oh boy. 

“...I think my brain is fried.”

Warren had a crush on Nathan Prescott. _The_ Nathan Prescott. Honestly, Warren didn’t even know how to feel about it. He and Nathan had gotten close over the last two weeks. For it to have developed into a crush in such a short amount of time was mind-boggling. 

But… it made sense. He had been through more in those past two weeks than in his entire lifetime. Looking for Max, going to abandoned barns in the middle of the night, sneaking around, getting clues, facing off Frank, movie nights, dinners, getting high… They did everything together. Partners in crime. 

Stella and Dana looked concerned at the dumb grin that appeared on his face. Stella waved a hand over his face. “Uh, Warren? Are you still there?”

“I think we broke him,” said Dana.

Warren snapped out of it. “I’m good. Great, actually.”

“You’re… sure?” 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

ooo

Warren barely escaped with his life as he’d dodged the flurry of questions Stella and Dana attacked him with, demanding to know who his crush was. When they learned that Warren, for once, was not going to talk incessantly about this mystery person they decided to leave it alone, trusting his judgement. They hyped him up to ask his crush out, and take things to the next level.

But he couldn’t let them know that it was complicated. That Nathan was complicated. They barely talked in school where people could judge them for being friends outside their respective cliques, let alone be able to _date_ out in the open where people could judge them for something else.

And there was the Big Question of whether Nathan liked him back or not. It wasn’t as simple as Max who was… heterosexual? (Warren couldn’t say he’s asked.) Nathan had never given him an indication that he was bisexual in any way, then again he didn’t think there had ever been a situation where it could’ve been brought up. 

But… there was something. Warren felt it back at the Drive-In, though at the time he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He couldn’t take his eyes off Nathan the entire night, even during the films. Warren had taken extra care to linger inside the popcorn bag so that his hand would brush Nathan’s. He was half sure Nathan had done the same. On the ride back, he had purposefully laid his head on Nathan’s shoulder, and Nathan never shook it off or woke him up. And he could have sworn they had a moment when they were putting the wristbands on each other. A few seconds that felt like an eternity when their skins touched and Warren could feel Nathan’s heartbeat from his veins. That had to mean something. 

Even if it didn’t… Warren would be okay with that. He didn’t care if Nathan was his boyfriend or just his friend; he loved spending time with him and just being around him. Sure, Warren wanted to, well, do couple things with Nathan like go on dates and hold hands and, wow, even kiss. But if Nathan didn’t want that, that was fine. Warren would be more than happy just to be his friend. 

For now, he wanted to talk. He wasn’t going to confess his undying love for him or anything, but maybe they could have dinner together. Warren still had some money left over from his savings, he could take them somewhere nice. Dana suggested a restaurant near the beach. Seafood. Nathan liked seafood, right? 

Warren poked his head in the History classroom, knowing it was Nathan’s next class. Sure enough, he was in the back of the room waiting for the teacher to start, idly talking to Victoria. His resolve faltered a bit when he saw her, but him and Nathan were friends now. He probably didn’t have to throw any stink bombs at her to get her to leave.

Heart in his throat, Warren approached them. “Hey, Nathan.”

To Warren’s surprise, Nathan shot him a nasty glare. “Oh my God, _what_ do you want _now?”_

Warren blinked for a moment, thrown off. “I-uh, what?” 

“Wait a minute,” Victoria said, eyebrows raised, “is he _still_ bothering you? After all this time?” 

Nathan scoffed. “Yeah, he just can’t get over the fact that his precious Max left him all alone with no friends.”

“Seriously?” Victoria turned to face him. “Leave him alone, he doesn’t want anything to do with your desperate ass.” Warren struggled to think of a comeback.

Nathan beat him to it. “God, he’s like a fucking cockroach. Just keeps coming back. Get off my crack, whore.”

Warren was too stunned to do anything except take the verbal beating. His eyes searched Nathan’s for answers, but Nathan was staring pointedly at his desk. 

The bell rang, class was starting. Victoria gave him a derisive snort and turned away from him. “That’s your cue to fuck off.”

And Warren did. His head felt like it was dunked underwater. He barely noticed the students filing in and the teacher settling everyone. From the doorway, he shot one last glance at Nathan. His face was buried in his arms. Warren left.

ooo

Warren fiddled with the drawstrings of his jacket as Mr. Jefferson evaluated his photograph. There was something about a world-class photographer looking at his work that made even Warren nervous about not being good enough. Plus, he didn’t have a good streak with Mr. Jefferson.

Mr. Jefferson peered over the rim of his glasses and flashed a smile. “C plus.” 

_“C plus?”_

“The subject is good, fits the theme perfectly. But there is a lack of detail in the shadows and highlights. The focus in the picture is centered more on the doe rather than the accident—see how that’s blurred? Also, look at those track marks near the edge of the picture. That tells me that the car skidded and made a whole path coming down from the hill. The photograph would have been a lot more striking if you had taken it from a different angle that covered the path of destruction.”

“Oh,” was all Warren had to say.

“Don’t worry too much about it, you’re doing fine. This isn’t an easy class. Only three students have A’s in the class, and I’m sure you have the capability to be one of them. Keep it up.”

One of those students had to be Nathan. There was no doubt in Warren’s mind. Nathan’s photography was first-rate and he had such a passion for the subject, it was one of the things Warren admired most about him. 

“Take a seat, class is about to start,” Mr. Jefferson directed him to his desk. 

Warren sat at Max’s old desk, at the very back of the room. He felt her absence strongly sitting there. Kate’s empty seat to his right. Nobody attempted to fill that space, it was too sensitive a subject. Victoria sat to his left, giving him a dirty look. He squirmed under her gaze, pride still stung from the verbal beatdown a few hours ago. Warren tried hard not to let it affect him.

“Okay, so, as you all know I just came back from the trip to San Francisco with our ‘Everyday Hero’, Stella. It was a great experience, and as you all can imagine, we’re exhausted.” Mr. Jefferson covered his yawn, “So, I’m only going to be grading your papers today, in the meantime, read up until chapter sixteen. We’ll discuss it at the end of the period.”

Warren had already read up until chapter twenty of the textbook. He figured if he couldn’t get more than a solid B on his photography, he would try to make up for it with homeworks and tests. 

Without anything to distract it, Warren’s mind wondered to Nathan Prescott. Nathan’s words stunned him, and he had gone through the day in a disoriented haze. He hadn’t had the chance to think about it. Warren wasn’t the kind of person not to think about things. If anything, his mind was even louder than his mouth. He flipped the textbook to chapter twenty one. 

Maybe the outburst was because he was with Victoria. They couldn’t be seen together from a social standpoint and that was why he lashed out. He had to keep up an image. Warren could understand that.

And he hadn’t replied to Warren’s texts because they just spent the whole week together. People needed space. Max ignored his texts too, but they were still close like two peas in a pod. Right?

A phone rang obnoxiously close to him, and he realized he had been rereading the same sentences over and over on the page. He uncapped his highlighter and drew a line under it. 

Not to mention he did drop a pretty big bomb on him, with the whole visions thing. The doe and all the time travel theories, even Warren needed to pause and think about it. Nathan would come around soon enough. They had pinky-promised, after all. Which didn’t really mean anything and was just a childish gimmick Warren used from time to time. 

Nathan was good like that, kept up with all of Warren’s weirdness. Aside from the time traveling there was the geek stuff, the science shit, the Drive-In… He even put up with him while drunk. He had never been drunk before and he had to admit, it was a fun but embarrassing memory. He was just glad Nathan was there to save him from further trauma.

So, why did Nathan say those things? Even if he was flexing in front of Victoria, he didn’t have to sound so… Warren swallowed thickly. He didn’t mean those things. There was an explanation somewhere, he just had to talk to Nathan. 

The phone was still ringing, and Warren wished Mr. Jefferson would berate the person so they would put it on vibrate or something. 

_“A-hem,”_ someone cleared their throat and Warren raised his head to see that everyone in the class was staring at him. He frowned when he realized the ringing was coming from the bottom of his backpack. But that would be weird because his ringtone was completely different and he was sure he had his phone on vibrate.

His stomach dropped when he realized it wasn’t his phone.

It was _Rachel’s._

Warren dropped everything and dug desperately for the phone which was stuck underneath some of his textbooks. The caller ID read—

_Tall, Dark, and Handsome._

He was calling. 

“I ha-have to take this,” said Warren, rushing out of the room.

“Warren, we’re in the middle of class,” started Mr. Jefferson, beginning to rise from his desk. 

“Please, it’s really important.” Warren pushed through the door and stepped outside. He was about to answer when the phone stopped ringing.

 _No, no, no!_ Warren called the number and the line rang one, two, three times before _“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice mailing system. Please try again later.”_

Warren dialed again, his foot tapping anxiously at the rings. He was close, so _close._ He had been trying to call his number for a week and couldn’t get past the voicemail but now Tall, Dark, and Handsome tried to call _back._

_“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice mailing system. Please try again later.”_

Again.

_“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice mailing system. Please—”_

_“The person you have reached does not have an automated voice—”_

_“The person you have reached does not—”_

_“We are sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you—”_

Disconnected? Warren called again, but the message was the same. He called again, and again, but it didn’t change. The phone was disconnected. There was nothing he could do. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was gone. 

“Warren.” 

He jumped at the voice, turning around to see Mr. Jefferson standing at the doorway with a raised eyebrow and a disappointed purse of his lips. Warren’s shoulders slumped and he walked dejectedly back to the classroom. 

“Sorry,” Warren said.

“Just keep your phone on silent next time,” Mr. Jefferson answered.

ooo

It only took two minutes for Nathan to reply to his text and by the time Warren returned to his dorm, Nathan was already there.

“What happened?” Nathan asked.

“I got a call from Tall, Dark, and Handsome in the middle of class.” Warren showed Nathan the missed call from the phone, along with his several attempts to redial. Nathan took the phone and scrolled through. 

“And?”

“He hung up before I could pick up. I tried calling back but my calls kept getting declined. Then his phone got disconnected. Mr. Jefferson told me to go back to class so I couldn’t really do anything after that.”

“Jefferson? He called you during _Jefferson’s_ class?” 

There was an urgency to Nathan’s tone that caused Warren to pause. “Yeah, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, never mind.” 

Silence. Nathan wasn’t looking at him, similar to earlier, his gaze down to the floor. A knot of skin between his brows. Something unsaid laid between them. 

Warren could never stand the silence. “Nathan, can we talk?” 

“About what?” 

“What happened earlier?”

“What are you talking about?” It was clear in Nathan’s expression that he knew exactly what Warren was talking about. 

“Earlier, when I tried to talk to you. You treated me like shit, Nathan.” He flinched at that—it was minor, a quick tightening of his expression. Warren didn’t know why it took him so long to realize he liked Nathan. He could read him better than anyone else. “I just wanna know why. Is it—was it because Victoria was there?” 

Nathan scoffed, rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t care less what others thought of me.”

“Then why—”

“Because we’re not friends, Warren.” Nathan’s words cut through his own. Warren’s mouth went dry. 

“What are you—”

“I was only using you to find Rachel. I pretended to be your friend so you’d help me look for her, but now there’s nothing else we can do so I don’t need you anymore.” 

“What the fuck?” Warren’s stomach felt cold. Why was Nathan lying? Why was he pushing Warren away? “That’s not true, I _know_ that’s not true. Why—why the fuck are you lying to me?”

“I’m not ly—”

 _“Bullshit!”_ The boom that came from Warren’s throat sounded alien to him and seeing Nathan take a reflexive step back only made him feel worse. “You didn’t have to help me save Chloe from Frank, you didn’t have to tell me about your illness, you didn’t have to buy me lunch or—or give me your camera or go to the Drive-In with me, but you did! Because we’re friends! I don’t know why you’re denying it, but we’re friends!” 

“I just wanted Rachel! I don’t give two shits about you or Max! This whole time I’ve only been looking after Rachel and now she’s gone so there’s no fucking reason for me to stick around!” 

The silence was deafening. There wasn’t any doubt in Warren’s mind that Nathan was lying. Something was up.

“If that was true then why leave now? We’re close, Nathan. I just got a call from the last person to have seen Rachel. You can’t give up.” 

“And what did that accomplish? Rachel is _gone._ Tall, Dark, and Handsome is _gone._ There’s nothing we can do.”

“How can you say that? The guy that last saw Rachel just called us and immediately disconnected his phone afterwards. You can’t say that’s not suspicious.”

“What if Rachel’s dead, Warren? What if he killed her?”

“We don’t know that—”

“Then what do you _think_ happened? Do you think he’s keeping her in some hole in the ground, forcing her to put lotion on her skin and feeding her scraps?” 

“I-I don’t know. Maybe they ran away together or something.”

Nathan gave an ugly laugh. “Only you would be that fucking naive.”

“Okay, fine! If he killed her then we find him and turn him in! There’s always _something_ we can do.” 

“You’re not a superhero, Warren! Just because you have powers doesn’t mean you have to save the world!” 

“I’m not trying to save the world, I’m trying to save Rachel!”

Another long stretch of silence permeated between them. Both were breathing hard through their noses. After a few beats, Nathan shook his head and pushed past Warren. 

“Where are you going?” Warren asked. 

“I’m out.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m not looking for Rachel anymore.” 

_What about us?_ The unspoken question hung heavily in the air. Neither Nathan nor Warren acknowledged it. Warren only stared, heartbroken, as Nathan opened the door. He stopped, but didn’t turn his head. “Stay away from murderers, Warren. I mean it.” The door closed behind him. 

The emotions hit Warren all at once, like being dunked in a pool of ice water. He wished—more than anything—that Dana and Stella hadn’t told him about his crush earlier that way. Maybe the pain in his chest wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t know where it came from. 

_Rewind, rewind._ His brain nearly ached from the desire to take that conversation back and fix everything. He didn’t care how many times it would take, he would turn the universe inside out if he had to. But he promised. Fuck, he was still hanging on to that promise he made weeks ago that he wouldn’t use his powers on Nathan. A promise that meant nothing now because Nathan cast him aside. It hurt, it hurt bad. 

But Warren never cried. Not even when his mom died. He cried at the hospital, when the surgeons told them she didn’t make it, and again at the funeral. But that was it. After that he was stuck in a sombre state as the ache dulled, but he was always the strong one. 

Warren didn’t cry now, but his throat hurt as if he were about to. He received a text from Stella asking him how it went and he gave the most casual reply he could muster, only saying that he was shot down. As if Nathan had politely rejected him with the promise that they could still be friends. Stella told him to not give up.

He didn’t think much about that as he continued with his day. Doing homework, taking a shower, playing games. Nathan was always at the back of his mind. The good memories, not the argument. Movie nights, time travelling, laughing, dancing, eating out, spending time together, having fun, talking for hours and hours. There was something there. He didn’t know why Nathan was denying it, but there was something and it was real and tangible and intimate. But Warren only knew one thing.

He wasn’t going to give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry for this chapter, but also you're welcome ;*


	17. Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello... It's Me. 
> 
> Okay, okay I know it's been a while and I'm surprised you guys haven't killed me yet. Truth be told, I've been in an emotional slump lately and writing's just not coming to me as easily anymore. And I guess I'm sorry for that since I know you guys don't deserve to wait a billion years after a cliffhanger. 
> 
> AnyWAY, now that the sob story is out of the way, I got a few things to share! 
> 
> FIRST, this chapter breaks from the usual structure that the other chapters have where it takes place in one day. This chapter takes course over **ten** days, give or take. Future chapters might also begin to break away from the previous format and have more timeskips in between chapters. It's necessary because, honestly, we'd never get to this point if they were all day by day. I'm doing you guys a mercy.
> 
> SECOND, I wrote a short one-shot of how Nathan and Frank met in Exposure. You can read it [here!](http://gunophilia.tumblr.com/post/160299386870/meeting-frank)
> 
> THIRD, fanart!! Here's [an adorable kiss by](http://daveydesu.tumblr.com/post/158974728146/ive-been-reading-exposure-by-gunophilia-on-ao3) [daveydesu,](http://daveydesu.tumblr.com/) [plus two](http://pancakeofsin.tumblr.com/post/159226598850/practicing-pixel-art-plus-stuck-in-life-is-strange) [cute scenes](http://pancakeofsin.tumblr.com/post/160372361570/happy-birth-gunophilia-from-reds-fic-exposure) by [pancakeofsin,](http://pancakeofsin.tumblr.com/) and an [awesome illustration](https://anxious-fish.tumblr.com/post/160259941351/a-weird-doodle-for-gunophilias-fanfic) by [anxious-fish!!](https://anxious-fish.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I'm honestly blown away from all the support and gifts I've received these past few months from you guys and your neverending patience. Now without any further ado, please enjoy!

Science class had always reminded him of Warren. 

Nathan sat in the far back as he did in his other classes, paying attention to anything but the teacher. He learned at his own pace, usually from doing homework with Victoria or cramming last minute. But Nathan was surprisingly good at chemistry, something he attributed to his fervent interest in drugs during his early teens. 

Despite that, he was nowhere near as gifted as Warren, who could make bombs and poisons and firecrackers and traps. Warren, who would make long-winded rants about any little thing he found interesting. Nathan listened to Warren far more than he listened to teachers or psychiatrists or parents. 

Fuck.

Nathan kept reassuring himself that he had no fucking choice but to push Warren away. Tall, Dark, and Handsome _called_ him in the middle of his fucking class, forcing Warren to unwittingly expose himself to Mark Jefferson. To the man who… had _something_ to do with Rachel’s disappearance. 

That was dangerous. Nathan had no idea what Jefferson was capable of, and that scared him. Warren was too close to this whole thing. And Nathan was too close to Warren. What he did was necessary.

There was a sharp vibration, followed by a buzzing sound. Nathan took out his phone to read the message. 

**[Warren, Today 3:20 PM]**

_So I got an A minus on my last english quiz, which isn’t too terrible. But I got a three point deduction because I wrote my name wrong on accident._

**[Warren, Today 3:20 PM]**

_Apparently, my name is WEEN GRHAM. I must have had the biggest brain fart._

If only Warren had gotten the fucking memo and left him alone. If only. 

Nathan sneered at the messages Warren sent him, rolling his eyes and switching his attention to the science teacher. Warren was more stubborn than Nathan gave him credit for. He had kept texting Nathan like absolutely nothing was wrong, ignoring the fact that Nathan was ignoring him. He even sent him a _good morning_ text every morning and a _good night_ text every night. Nathan would have blocked his number if he didn’t need them so fucking badly.

 _Fuuuuck._ Nathan slumped his head on the desk. Lying to Warren had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, yet Warren saw right through him. He should have expected it. Warren was oblivious at times but he wasn’t stupid. 

God, what would Warren do if he found out Nathan actually had… _feelings_ for him? That it wasn’t just a friendship, that Nathan was disgusting enough to see Warren in a different way. The more he had thought about it, the more clear his feelings had become. It all made sense too. Why Nathan’s heart would skip a beat whenever he saw a message from Warren, why he stuck around far after they stopped looking for Max. Those moments where he would stare at Warren and time stopped all around him, allowing him to take in every single detail in a way that a camera could not capture. 

And Warren. Warren didn’t fucking deserve that. He deserved someone who didn’t eyeball him like a fucking creep. He deserved a better friend—someone who only saw him as a friend. Nathan had a knack for ruining everything he touched. 

Even if Nathan could only see him as a friend, it wasn’t enough. The Dark Room, Rachel, Jefferson, all those fucking secrets… Even if Nathan could keep his feelings in check everything else was just too much. Warren didn’t know him, not completely, and he never would. How would Warren react if he found out about everything Nathan had done? 

He’d fantasize about having someone to confide in; someone he could tell everything to. He used to vent to Jefferson before he found out about him and Rachel. After that, it was like something had broken between them. Nathan lost his confidant. 

Warren could not be his confidant. No matter how much Nathan wanted to spill his guts and soul to him, he could never tell him. And Warren didn’t deserve someone who kept a whole part of their life in the shadows. 

The bell startled him when it rang, followed by scraping chairs and the teacher’s final words to her class before dismissing them. 

ooo

There was a blind spot behind Blackwell’s main building where Madsen’s new security system wouldn’t be able to pick up any visual feed. It was either something they overlooked, or it was Well’s way of cutting corners. Point was, the cameras made Nathan’s business a lot more limited. 

The blue bitch was late. She showed up only a few seconds after Nathan had decided that he was going to leave. She sauntered up to him with a disgusted curl to her lip like she couldn’t believe she had degraded herself to looking to him for drugs. 

Well, the feeling was mutual, bitch. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t charge you extra for all the time you had me waste.”

She was chewing gum and made the effort of blowing a bubble and popping it before flipping the bird. “Blow me, bitch.”

 _I’d like to blow your fucking brains out,_ he thought sourly. “I don’t have to sell you weed.”

“You owe me one and you know it.”

He scoffed. This fucking entitled bitch. “Sure, I owe you one.” He gave her the eighth she’d asked for and she gave him three twenties. “Remind me not to save your fucking life next time.”

She shot him a stone-cold glare. Clearly she didn’t appreciate having that brought up. Well too fucking bad. That should have been the end of the transaction. They got what they wanted and should have parted ways. But Chloe lingered, giving him a scrutinizing glare, and Nathan was too perplexed to do anything except glare back.

An uncomfortably long amount of time passed before she spoke. “So?” 

“So what?”

“Did you find out anything with the files I gave you?”

Oh. Fuck. Right. Nathan had avoided looking at David’s files since he received them, shoving them under his bed and trying to forget about them. He was more preoccupied keeping Warren from them than anything else, if he was being honest. 

And Nathan was afraid of what he would find in them.

“The files you gave me have jack shit. It’s just a bunch of conspiracy theories that go nowhere. He didn’t find out anything that we didn’t know.”

Chloe’s shoulders sagged then and he almost felt bad for her. Almost. “Another fucking dead end, huh.” 

“Yup.”

She shook her head and began pacing. “You didn’t look hard enough. I know she’s out there and she needs our help! Rachel wouldn’t just leave on her own, okay? Something fucking happened to her and I need to know what.” 

Nathan rolled his eyes. What a fucking drama queen. “Give it up, Chloe. We clearly didn’t know her as well as we thought. You’re starting to sound like Madsen.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t you _ever_ compare me to Sergeant Dickface. I’m not paranoid, okay? I _know_ she’s out there. I can feel it.”

Nathan didn’t want to think about Rachel. About what could have happened to her. Not anymore.

“Well that settles it. Call 911, tell them Rachel’s still out there because Chloe’s lesbo senses are tingling. We’ll find her in no time.” 

“You are such a prick, Nathan! If you don’t think we can find her then why are you still here? Why did you even look for her in the first place? You told me you loved her. Or was that just another fucking lie?”

Hot anger flared in his chest. _Another fucking lie?_ How dare she imply that he didn’t care about Rachel? Despite everything they’ve been through, Chloe still didn’t know what she was talking about. He raised his voice, unable to keep his rage in check. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit about me or Rachel! You didn’t know what it was like when I—when she—” 

“When she _what?”_ She spat.

“When I found out all this. About Frank, about—” Jefferson. Nathan barely caught the name on time. God knew what Chloe would do if she found out Jefferson had been involved with Rachel in any way. Part of him wanted her to know. To see what she would do. What _he_ would do. To see what he was truly capable of. 

“You think you were the only one she sold the dream to? Running away to California together? She probably told that to every single fucking sucker that fell for her. She never meant it, that was just her way of wrapping you around her finger. She never meant any of it.” He ran out of steam at the end, his own words hitting him as hard as they did when he first realized it. It was like the world had sunk underneath his feet.

Tears were flowing freely down Chloe’s cheeks, her jaw clenched shut. She wiped her eyes with the inside of her wrists. Nathan looked away as she cried, focusing his gaze at the cracks in the wall next to them. His tears were already shed for Rachel. He had mourned her loss far before she went missing. 

ooo

Hot air filled Nathan’s lungs, he held it, and exhaled. Next to him, Chloe’s lungs filled with hot air, she held it, and exhaled. They sat next to each other, their backs pressed against the brick wall of the main school building, overlooking the mountains and forest in the distance. 

And for a moment everything was calm. An unspoken truce between them. They weren’t fooling themselves, still hated each other to the core, but currently they existed in the eye of the storm. 

“What would you do?” Chloe flicked ash off her joint. “If we found Rachel?”

“Found how?” Nathan asked.

“If she really went to California.”

Nathan thought about it. A world where Rachel had run away, where there wasn’t this huge weight in the back of his skull—thoughts and voices that if they ever came to light Nathan would surely shatter. Where the files led them to finding her in a small one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles with a successful modeling career. Where she would apologize for making them worry. 

Nathan offered a one shoulder shrug. “I don’t know. Nothing.”

“I’d go with her,” Chloe said, taking another drag. “I don’t care if she doesn’t want me with her, I’m going.”

“Figures.”

“What if she came back?”

“To Arcadia Bay?”

Chloe nodded.

Nathan couldn’t picture it. Rachel just showing up out of nowhere, wanting things to go back the way they were? Maybe he just didn’t have the imagination. Maybe it was the weed. “I don’t know,” he answered. 

Chloe gave a derisive snort. “Full of insightful answers today, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, Price.” After taking a long drag, Nathan forced his eyes shut and leaned his head to the wall. Rachel returning to Blackwell. Crashing parties, getting high together, taking long drives to the middle of nowhere, less than luxurious photoshoots, laying together on the courtyard, the clumsy, drunken sex. All things Nathan once yearned and ached for. 

But now he didn’t so much as feel a prick of pain. Just an empty, hollow feeling where his joy used to be. Those moments were as real as Jefferson’s empathy. “There are some things I can’t forgive,” he said. “She did a lot of fucked up shit. She can’t just roll back into town and pretend nothing happened.”

“Why not?” Chloe asked. “Isn’t that the whole reason we’re looking for her? Why the fuck bother if you’re just not going to forgive her?” 

“Could things go back to normal for you, knowing what you know now?”

“Yes,” Chloe didn’t miss a beat. “I love her, that hasn’t changed. That will _never_ change. In a way I totally understand why she disappeared like that.” 

Nathan sighed. “Me too.”

“She’s still out there, somewhere. Waiting for us to find her.”

For a brief, heartstopping moment, Nathan believed her. 

ooo

By the time Nathan was done sorting them out, the files had covered so much of his floor that he had to tiptoe in very specific areas in order to get anywhere. There was just so much information, dating back to all the way before her disappearance. 

After the conversation he had with Chloe, Nathan had finally given in and decided to take a look at the files. It started out as a quick peek. Just to tell himself that he at least _tried._ David couldn’t have known that much about Rachel.

Boy was he wrong. 

David had known about Frank and Rachel. Not only that, he had even stalked her, and a bunch of other people, including Nathan. David had actual photographic evidence of Nathan’s dealings at Blackwell. Along with pictures of his car, license plate, and a list of everyone he talked to. In the margins were Madsen’s usual ramblings, questioning Nathan’s connection to “Arcadia Bay’s drug ring”.

It was alarming at best, dangerous at worst. His dad would kill him if he found any of that shit out. He also had information on Frank, and a good number of his customers. If he ever came forward to the police with any of this, they would be screwed. There was enough evidence here to put everyone away. 

Fuuuuuuck. He really had to do something about David. 

At least he had pages upon pages of information on Rachel. Nathan didn’t know if he should be appalled or relieved. Paranoid as he was, David was incredibly thorough. With this, he might be able to piece together what happened that night. If Rachel had gone to the barn with Jefferson. If Nathan had been there. 

Nathan didn’t know what to think. All he had to go on was Jefferson’s vague insinuations. Rachel’s messages. That was all. That and a horrible, gut clenching feeling. 

The truth was that Nathan had no idea what he had been doing that day. He was in a really bad place the few weeks before her disappearance. After he found out she wasn’t as fond of him as he’d thought. Those days went by in a haze, finding himself drunk or high or both. The moments where he was sober were few and far in between and he just barely managed to dig himself out of that hole before it became something more permanent. Gaps in memory wasn’t a concept alien to him. 

The last thing he remembered was receiving the message from Rachel. After that… he didn’t know. He could have driven to the barn, high as a kite. He could have stayed at home and drunk himself to a stupor. Nathan couldn’t trust himself. He just didn’t know if he trusted Jefferson. Maybe he could trust the evidence. Nathan steeled himself to look and to be prepared for what he would find.

 

Hours passed, the sun had long set, and papers were now filled with Nathan’s scribbles and connections next to David’s ramblings. 

Jefferson was at the barn April 22nd, the night of Rachel’s disappearance. Rachel didn't have a car, so he couldn't track her directly. But that same date around 5:13PM, he made a stop at a gas station walking distance from her house. Probably to pick her up. Then he went straight to the barn and… stayed there. Until midday the next day, then drove home. 

And another thing, Nathan wasn't at the barn that night. 

Or at least, David wasn't tracking him back then. Nathan had a different car at the time. A sleeker, more expensive model. Until he crashed it and his dad made him get a bulky pickup. David had placed a tracker on the car, but the reports stopped a week shy of the disappearance. He began tracking the pickup about two months later. 

So in the end he was right back where he started. Didn’t learn anything new, outside of confirmation that yes, Jefferson and Rachel were at the barn that night. Jefferson had stayed there until the next day so who knew what they were doing. Who knew what Nathan was doing.

His mind swam with the possibilities. Did Nathan drive to the barn and walk in on them? It wouldn’t have been the first time, he thought bitterly. When it happened, it overwhelmed him. What if it happened again, this time while he was doped up? What could he have done?

What if he wasn’t there at all? If he was stuck at his dorm, feeling sorry for himself while Jefferson… what? Killed Rachel? Why? He didn’t have a motive—there was no reason to kill her. 

Except maybe there was. 

The memory hit him like a stack of bricks. Rachel had something she wanted to tell Frank, to tell Jefferson, the day that she died. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, more concerned for her wellbeing than whatever other secrets she had been hiding. But what if that was it? What if that somehow led to her disappearance? What had she told him?

Jefferson was the only one who knew what happened that night. Truth be told, all Nathan had to do was ask. But there was a sort of gnawing dread that bloomed in his stomach whenever he came close. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

ooo

Nathan wasn’t good at drawing. Or carving, for that matter. His sketches came out wobbly and crooked and his carvings came out worse, most of them not even coming close to the original concept. 

Victoria’s dorm resembled a small pumpkin patch. They were all over the place, both carved and uncarved. The Halloween Bash was in just a few days, and they were working on last minute decor that no one else wanted to do. Courtney and Taylor and others from her posse offered to help but Victoria was in a sour mood and couldn’t deal with their ass kissing at the moment. It was just Nathan and Victoria. 

They had been at it for hours and should have been done by now, but they kept getting distracted and taking breaks every five minutes. Nathan didn’t care. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. 

Victoria frowned at his pumpkin, turning it around and flipping it upside down. “What is this?”

“It’s a bat,” Nathan answered.

“Why does it have three legs?”

“That’s its tail.”

“Bats don’t have tails.”

“What?”

She set it down next to the others in the ‘reject’ pile. Victoria assured them they were still going to be used for the party, but Nathan knew they were probably going to be placed somewhere away from the other, more good looking pumpkins. 

Victoria struggled with carving a particularly hard shell. She cursed under her breath and stabbed it with the knife, full force, before sticking her hand in and tearing out the insides in a way that reminded Nathan of 80’s horror movies fx. 

“Whoa Vic, did that pumpkin steal your boyfriend?” 

“What?”

“If you stab that thing any harder it would be rated R for gore.” 

She didn’t laugh or roll her eyes as she usually would. She set the knife down and blew her bangs out of her face. “Sorry, I’m anxious.”

“I noticed. What’s up?”

“Courtney isn’t here with the costume yet.”

“The party isn’t for another three days.”

 _Now_ she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Nate, but I really, really need to win that contest. If the costume is a bust I’m done for. I already lost Everyday Heroes to a fucking hippie loser.”

If you ever talked to Victoria for more than three minutes you would know she was one of the most competitive people to walk on the face of the Earth. Losing was a blow to her carefully crafted confidence. She had a near mental breakdown when she lost Jefferson’s photography contest, god help anyone who beat her a second time. 

“What _are_ you going as?”

“I ordered a custom made vampire queen dress. If that doesn’t get me first place I don’t know what will.”

“Cheating and sabotage could help.” He was joking, but wouldn’t put it past Victoria to try.

She chuckled. “Already taken care of.” Her phone pinged. A look at the screen and her smile faded. “Ugh, Zachary’s texting me. I literally can’t right now. Handle it for me?”

“Sure,” he took her phone and read the message.

**[Zak, Today 4:54 PM]**

_hey sexy_

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I thought you two were done after the fiasco with Dana.” 

She scoffed. “As if.” 

**[You, Today 4:54 PM]**

_hey stud ;)_

**[Zak, Today 4:54 PM]**

_what r you wearing_

Nathan looked up. Victoria was wearing a white tank top, black running shorts, and not much else. “Hey, Vic, what are you wearing?”

She didn’t look away from her carving. “I don’t know, Nathan, what _am_ I wearing?” 

“I mean, like, underneath.”

“I don’t know, make something up.”

**[You, Today 4:55 PM]**

_Im wearing a lacy black bra and nothing else <3_

**[Zak, Today 4:55 PM]**

_Hahah, wow hot_

**[Zak, Today 4:55 PM]**

_show me_

“He wants a pic,” Nathan said.

“Ugh. Of what?”

“Your boobs. Should I break it to him and tell him you don’t have any?”

Victoria’s mouth gaped open in offense. Nathan tried to keep the shit eating grin off his face to no avail. She reached for one of her couch cushions and whacked him in the head with it. Nathan fell on his side while she attacked him, cackling uncontrollably. 

“Your sexting privileges have been revoked!” Victoria grabbed the phone from his hands. 

“Oh no,” Nathan said, breathing deeply, “whatever shall I do.” 

The phone pinged again and Victoria shook her head. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Let me see.” Nathan looked over her shoulder to see a picture of Zachary’s dick, full view, on Victoria’s phone screen. “Nice. You know you could just tell him to fuck off.”

“You think that works? Really? Have you ever met a guy?”

Nathan’s smile faded as he was suddenly and painfully reminded of Warren. He tried his goddamn best at keeping him away yet Warren kept buzzing around like an annoying mosquito. Or a cockroach, like Nathan had called him. 

“Besides, I don’t really want him to stop. I kinda like it.”

And there it was. 

The reason why Warren hadn’t fucked off completely. Deep down, Nathan knew he hadn’t tried hard enough. After the fight Warren kept trying to look for him. He’d caught Warren’s eye in the halls more than a few times. Warren would perk up and give him a smile, Nathan would look away. Warren waited outside classrooms where he knew Nathan had his next period, Nathan would skip class altogether. Warren messaged him every day, Nathan ignored the messages, but refused to block him. Fuck, Warren sent him a selfie one day and Nathan’s heart nearly burst. 

There was more he could have done, but Nathan didn’t have the guts to do it.

Outside of Warren not deserving him, Nathan didn’t know if he could handle another label on his already fucked up cocktail of mental shit. Liking guys didn’t surprise him as much as it should have. It was like getting yet another diagnosis from a fucked up professional. Psycho, addict, and now faggot. Made perfect sense. 

There was a hurried knock on the door and Victoria perked up her head. She didn’t catch Nathan’s newfound frown as she stood up and walked towards the door. “That better be fucking Courtney with my costume.”

It was. Courtney stood on the other side of the door, a large package in her hands, and a nervous smile on her face. “Hi, Victoria—”

Victoria snatched the package away from her. “What took you so long? Never mind, don’t answer that, I don’t care. Thanks, _chérie._ ”

“Hey, wait, can I—” Victoria slammed the door on her face.

Nathan whistled. “Stone cold.”

“Pass me the carving knife,” Victoria extended the palm of her hand, not taking her eyes off the package.

Nathan did, and she carefully opened the box with uncharacteristic patience. She pulled out the costume and stared at it reverently. 

“Looks good,” Nathan said. It was made with quality material and was probably worth more than Jefferson’s camera, but he doubted Victoria cared. 

“Help me put it on.”

 

The dress was the most complicated piece of clothing Nathan had ever seen. There were at least three layers to it, a corset, a large neckpiece with feathers, and long lacy sleeves. It took them close to twenty minutes to get it all on, but in the end it was worth it. Victoria looked like a winner. 

“If this doesn’t help me win the contest, I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said.

“Vic, if you don’t win we’ll know for sure that it’s rigged and I will personally sue the school district for you.” Nathan said, still putting the finishing touches on her costume. 

Victoria turned to look at the full body mirror. “I’m going to need help with the makeup. Do you think you can come before the party and help me put it on?”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Nate,” she said, and got her face close to the mirror to look for blemishes. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re like a gay best friend.” 

Nathan’s fingers stopped from adjusting her corset. “What did you say?”

“Like how I can undress in front of you and feel comfortable and we can talk about guys and makeup. It’s awesome.”

Nathan blinked. An unsettling feeling gripped his heart. He could hear the blood rushing to his head. Did—Was he that obvious? Did he somehow exude some kind of gay aura? Was he always like this? “What the fuck? I’m not gay!” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say you were, Nate.”

“You literally just did, you just said that I’m your gay best friend.”

Victoria looked at him like she couldn’t believe anyone would get upset over that. “No, I said you were _like_ a gay best friend. Seriously, what’s the problem?”

Liking guys was one thing—fuck, he only liked Warren as far as he knew—but being obvious about it was another. God, he already got enough shit for being fucking schizo, now he had to worry about hiding this too? Did people assume already? “I’m not a fucking fag, Victoria, that’s the problem!” 

Victoria raised her voice at the same time he did. “I didn’t say you were!”

“Yes, you did!”

“What’s the big deal? Why are you being so defensive? Calm down.”

“I am fucking calm!” Nathan shouted, calmly, of course.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?

“Just because I don’t ogle you like that piece of shit Zachary doesn’t mean I’m gay, I just don’t find you fucking attractive!”

Right as the words left his mouth, Nathan knew it was the wrong thing to say. He knew how sensitive Victoria was regarding her looks. That wasn’t what he meant to say. Fuck, that wasn’t what he meant to say. 

Victoria’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red and she looked at him with a strangled expression. There was a moment where they stared at each other and a million words were exchanged between them without making a sound. 

They spoke at the same time. “Vic, I didn’t—” “Leave.” 

Her voice was much softer than his, yet cut through his words as if she’d yelled them. 

“Wait, let me explain,” Nathan tried, but Victoria turned away. 

“Nathan. I am two seconds away from doing something I will _really_ regret. _Leave._ I mean it.”

Nathan knew she was holding herself back from saying something nasty. From making the situation worse. God, he was so fucking stupid. He was so fucking stupid. He ruined his friendship with Victoria like he ruined his friendship with Warren like he ruined everything he’d ever touched. Panic gripped him as he looked at Victoria. He couldn’t lose Victoria. He’d kill himself before he lost Victoria. 

She sensed his panic, somehow, and sighed. “It’s not the end of the world, Nathan. We’re fine. I just… Give me a minute, okay?”

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it. I believe you.”

Did she? Was she just saying that to get him off her back? Nathan felt like a kid again, hanging on to his dad’s dress pants and crying snot and tears into it in a futile attempt to prevent him from going on a business trip. Things were different now. Nathan wasn’t a kid. His dad always came back. Victoria would come back. 

Victoria was growing exasperated. “I can’t handle this right now, Nathan. _Breathe,_ okay? Count your breaths. I’m sorry.” 

Victoria would come back. Space. She needed space. Nathan left the room. Victoria closed the door behind him. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he always have to blow up over the smallest shit? It didn’t mean anything— _this_ didn’t mean anything, yet he was having yet another mental breakdown. Victoria hadn’t meant anything by it, she was just being Victoria. A few days ago the comment wouldn’t have even fazed him. 

This was all because of Warren. No, that wasn’t fair. Warren hadn’t done anything wrong. This was all because of his feelings towards Warren. The skin by his arms felt raw. He’d been scratching it. It was what he did when he wanted to hurt. Nathan wanted to hurt. If he were fucking normal none of this would have happened. If he had told Warren to stay away from him and fucking _meant_ it, it would have been fine. 

He would mean it this time. Inside the art classroom was a can of red spray paint. Used for projects and things for the more traditional artists. Nathan couldn’t think while doing this, if he thought about it, he would stop himself. 

Warren left his door unlocked. Most people did, trusting human decency. Nathan wasn’t decent. A decent person wouldn’t throw Warren’s clothes outside his window. A decent person wouldn’t kick his bookshelf down. A decent person wouldn’t break his mirror. A decent person wouldn’t tear his bedsheets. 

When he was satisfied—though the word was used very loosely—Nathan left a message. Spray painted the word **STALKER** in big red letters across his door, so everyone would see it. So he couldn’t ignore it. 

The scratching stopped, Nathan did hurt.

ooo

 

Nathan watched as the cherry-colored wine poured elegantly in his glass. His arm was thrown lazily to the back of the couch, legs spread and bouncing in an obnoxious rhythm. He held a photograph in his hand, ten more placed carefully in the table in front of him. It was of the contest winner, Stella. She stared at him with an open expression, eyes glazed over and pupils blown out. Loose strands of her ponytail stuck to tear-stained cheeks. 

“She was incredible.” Jefferson spoke over Nathan’s shoulder. “Absolutely remarkable.” 

Nathan didn’t see what made these photos different from any other girls’ set, but he wasn’t going to mention that. “Uh-huh.”

“Still, there was something missing. There was a certain hardness in her eyes during her moments of consciousness. Max would have been a much, much better subject.”

“Too bad she’s kicked it.” 

“Regardless of what happened, it was an opportunity wasted. We should have taken her sooner, but I was…” Jefferson licked his lips and shook his head in frustration. “I wanted to savor it. Save her for San Francisco. And now she’s been stolen.”

Or, y’know, completely obliterated from the dimension, if Warren’s theory held any water. 

“Who do you think did it?” Nathan reached for the wine and swiveled the liquid before taking a long sip. 

“There’s a lot of depravity in Arcadia Bay, hidden underneath the glitter and family values. It wouldn’t surprise me if some sick fuck took her.”

 _Like you?_ Nathan bit back his tongue just in time. “Do you think she’s still alive?”

“So what if she is? By the time anyone found her, all her innocence and purity would have been squeezed out of her soul. She’d be worthless.” 

Nathan wondered if Jefferson found him worthless. Innocence and purity were concepts alien to him. Had been since his father first struck him. Or maybe before that. 

“Speaking of Max,” Jefferson walked around the couch and refilled Nathan’s glass. Nathan hadn’t noticed he’d finished his drink. “People are connecting her disappearance to Rachel’s. Does that worry you?” 

The bounce in Nathan’s legs quickened. He focused his gaze towards the wineglass. “Why should it?” 

“They’re looking into Rachel. Your friend, Warren, has gotten uncomfortably close.” 

“No, he hasn’t.” 

“No?”

“I already took care of him.”

“By taking care of him, I assume you mean you were the one who trashed his room.” 

Nathan didn’t say anything, which was answer enough.

Jefferson gave him an amused smirk. “I won’t turn you in, though Wells nearly blew a gasket trying to find the vandal.” If the new anti-bullying posters and propaganda around the school was any indication of his ‘efforts’. Jefferson refilled his glass once more. Nathan suspected he was trying to get him drunk. He had to be careful. “Remember when I told you I got a call from Rachel? It turned out Warren made the call from her cellphone.” 

“You mean this?” Nathan took Rachel’s phone from his jeans. He had pocketed it while going through Warren’s dorm. “Rachel uses an alias for her contacts. Warren doesn’t know it’s you.”

Jefferson took the phone from his hands. “I didn’t think so, otherwise I’d have walked out of class in handcuffs. She’s clever.” Jefferson swiped his thumb over the lock screen. “What’s the password?”

“0420.”

Jefferson made a noncommittal sound. “Or maybe not.” 

There wasn’t anything incriminating on the phone. Nothing but painful memories and the ghost of a long gone girl. Nathan didn’t have a reason to keep it other than to torture himself. “Warren’s not going to give you any trouble.”

“I’m not worried about me.” Jefferson let the words hang in the air as he went through Rachel’s phone. Nathan swallowed dryly. Downed the rest of his drink. Fuck it. He presented the glass to Jefferson, who refilled it with the last of the bottle. 

“Neither am I,” Nathan whispered, lips ghosting over the glass. 

Jefferson put the phone in his back pocket. “Good work today, Nathan. You should rest here for a while. I’ll take her home.” 

Nathan shrugged, the alcohol was beginning to take its effect. Jefferson knelt and hauled the subject over his shoulders like cargo. Kelly, seventeen years old, short tawny hair, soft curves, a screamer while conscious. Her throat made an involuntary groan. Nathan avoided looking at her as he finished the rest of his drink. 

ooo

It was the day of the party and Nathan couldn’t be less excited if he tried. 

He hadn’t talked to Victoria in days. Warren’s messages had stopped. Nathan spent the rest of the week holed up in his room at the estate instead of Blackwell. He saw his dad in occasion, but other than brief smalltalk and some altercations at school between classes, Nathan had barely made any human contact in a while. 

And he wasn’t sure he considered Frank to be “human contact”. Nathan arrived at the parking lot early, not looking forward to seeing him, but slightly curious as to how he was doing. When he knocked on the door, he could hear him shuffling inside, and saw him take a peek out the window before opening the door a crack, forcing Nathan to squeeze in. 

Frank looked terrible. It had been nearly three weeks since the incident with Chloe, but Frank looked like he lived through it every day. Nathan’s eyes went directly to his hands. He was wearing gloves. Hiding the disfigurement. There were dark circles around Frank’s eyes, eyes which shifted from place to place, not being able to settle somewhere stable.

There weren’t any hard feelings between Nathan and Frank; they both knew that. They went way back, about six or so years. If their shaky relationship survived Rachel, it would survive Nathan pointing a gun at him. 

“You okay?” Nathan asked.

“I’m fuckin’ peachy. Are we doin’ this or are you gonna screw me over again?” 

Nathan asked for more party supplies than usual, partly because he sensed that the party was going to be shit and he needed a pick me up, partly because he felt bad for Frank. Frank counted the cash, recounted it, and recounted it again, and his eyes looked a little clearer. 

ooo

Setup went by without a hitch.

Dana was a fucking genius when it came to decorating. The theme was mostly composed of three colors: black, white, and orange. The locker rooms doubled as a haunted house. For some goddamned reason half of the toilet stalls had a skeleton that popped out at you when you opened the door. Nathan found that one out the hard way. 

Dry ice had been loaded into the pool and from it rose a spectacular fog. Nathan hadn’t paid much attention to the instructions and semantics—someone else would handle that. Right now, he found himself in the VIP section, sprawled out on a couch, arm draped over his face. Waiting for the party to start so he could get himself shitfaced.

He saw Victoria earlier, she looked amazing. Someone else helped her with her makeup, he noticed. It soured his mood even more. Nathan’s costume wasn’t impressive by any means, digging out most of the components from his wardrobe. A leather jacket, white shirt, jeans, and boom, he was Danny Zuko from _Grease._ A lazy costume for a lazy attitude. 

Hayden’s soothing deep voice broke Nathan out of his reverie. “Uh, Nathan? We have a problem.”

“Dana’s in charge,” he mumbled.

“I don’t think this is something Dana can handle.”

Just then Nathan heard the worst possible thing he’d ever heard in his life. “I want officers here, at the VIP section, then two closer to the entrance...” Nathan removed his arm from his face to see Blackwell’s security officers being stationed at the party. All of them being led by David fucking Madsen. 

“No. Way,” said Nathan. 

“They have a strict no drugs, no drinking policy,” said Hayden, looking distraught. “You gotta fix that, man. You don’t want to see me at a party while sober, I got no game.” 

Nope. There was no fucking way Madsen and his goons were going to ruin a Vortex Club party. Not on his watch. Nathan strode up to Madsen, fists clenched at his side. “Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“This party is within school grounds and under Blackwell’s security jurisdiction. We will keep an eye on things to make sure it doesn’t get rowdy.”

“My ass is under Blackwell’s security jurisdiction!”

David Madsen crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “I have strict orders from Principal Wells to cover this place inch by inch. I will not allow any inappropriate behavior or illegal substances in my campus.” 

“You think you can come in here and station your goons out and ruin my fucking party? After everything I’ve done for you?”

David bristled, his face reddening. “As much as I appreciate what you have done for my family, I will not tolerate any disrespect to a security officer! We are here to protect you and everyone at this party to prevent any misdemeanors that might tarnish the reputation of this school. You are lucky Wells allowed another of your ‘Vortex Club’ parties after what happened with Miss Marsh.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” he said despite the voice in his head reminding him that it was, “she drank wine or some shit and ruined her precious Christian virgin Mary reputation. Just how is that my fault?”

“And _where_ did she procure that wine?”

“Fuck if I know!” Victoria. “We don’t actually endorse drinking here.” A lie, one that Madsen did not buy.

“Then you should have no problem with officers at your party. Not unless you have something to hide. Watch your mouth, Prescott, or I won’t hesitate to have you removed from the premises.”

Seriously? This guy thought he could kick Nathan Prescott out of his own party? Oh, he had another thing coming. “Yeah? Well, _your_ mouth can suck my big, sweaty, _hairy_ —”

ooo

Sober. Nathan was sober. Tragically, unforgivably sober. 

The shouting match between David and Nathan had escalated and nearly led to an arrest. Dana, Trevor, and Victoria stepped in and managed to pacify everyone. Dana and Trevor just barely convincing David not to shut the party down, and Victoria knocking some sense into Nathan. 

And so the party began in full swing with the plebeians getting drunk off their energy drinks and capri sun while the Vortex Club remained in forced abstinence under the watchful eye of David Madsen. Some members were enjoying their time more than others: Dana and her boyfriend were fluttering about, making sure everyone was having a good time. Victoria was annoyed, but knew how to manage herself and socialize. Taylor and Courtney declared themselves as judge, jury, and executioner regarding people’s costumes. Zach and Logan were… actually, Nathan had no idea where those two went. Hayden looked about as miserable as Nathan was, hovering over the snack table and binge eating.

And Nathan? Nathan was _pissed._ Who the fuck did David Madsen think he was? Who did Wells think he was? He’d tried calling his dad earlier to see if he could strike some fear into Wells and convince him to discharge Madsen, but couldn’t reach him. Fucking bullshit. 

He’d skipped taking his pills that day so he could party without any side effects, but that went down the shitter. He considered leaving the party, but that would be letting David win. And he’d be damned if he was going to let Officer Fuckface win. 

Nathan strayed from the VIP section, not in the mood to have David anywhere near his line of sight, and found that most of the officers were outside in the entrance, the bathrooms, or the VIP section. The main pool area was mostly in the clear. The downside was that he had to be around the nerds and losers and hear their fucking gossip about how the Vortex Club lost sovereignty. 

So Nathan seethed at their makeshift bar, nursing a cup of kool-aid—yes, kool-aid, fucking hell. Next to him was a man in a hot dog suit. The party could not get worse. 

And then it did, when he heard Mark Jefferson’s voice behind him. “Mr. Prescott, can I talk to you for a moment?” 

_Fuck._ Did he want a fucking subject today? Couldn’t Nathan have one goddamned moment of peace? Without turning around, Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Mark?”

“Can you tell me where I can find some dank kush, brah?” Jefferson asked. 

“Wait, _what?!”_ Nathan swiveled his seat around to find Logan and Zachary heaving with laughter, Zachary dressed like a rather convincing Mark Jefferson. 

“Oh man, the look on your face!” Wheezed Zachary, in his normal voice. 

“I told you, you have a gift, bro,” said Logan. 

“What the fuck?” Nathan raised his eyebrow.

“Zach has a killer impersonation of Mr. Jefferson and I told him to put it to good use tonight.” Logan clapped Zachary’s shoulder.

It really was good, fooling even Nathan. The costume itself wasn’t going to fool anyone who’s had class with Jefferson, but from afar you could hardly tell the difference. The voice acting was what truly sold it. 

“I was thinking I could make a career as a porn star for anyone who wants to see Mark Jefferson get it on,” Zachary bit his lips and thrust his hips forward in an obscene gesture that Nathan did _not_ want to see Jefferson do. “I’ve been practicing Mr. Jefferson’s sexy voice on the phone, too.”

“While chatting up Victoria?” Nathan asked.

Zachary’s smile slipped, replaced by an embarrassed pout. “You know about that?”

“No, but I do now.” 

Logan found it hilarious, hanging on to Zachary to maintain the balance he was quickly losing from cackling so hard. “I told him—I told him to enter the contest but he’s sure that Victoria might actually murder him if he tried.”

That was true. He might have a real shot at winning, if only for humor. Nathan rolled his eyes. “Victoria wouldn’t murder you, dumbass.” 

“She wouldn’t?” Asked Zachary.

“She’d castrate you, throw your balls in the deep fryer, and feed them to you.” 

Zachary gagged, while Logan doubled over in laughter. “Okay, okay, but seriously though, is anyone smuggling in some dope or what?” 

“Don’t look at me, Madsen’s got his eyeballs shoved up my ass, _and_ they’re frisking people at the entrance, there’s no way I’d get anything in here.”

“Damn, it’s hard to get tail when everyone’s sober,” said Logan, as if he could get tail while high anyway. “We were hoping to see if we could score a threesome with a Mark Jefferson fangirl.”

Nathan frowned at Zachary. “Juliet’s okay with this?”

“We’re sort of taking a break,” said Zachary. “It’s only temporary.” So she broke up with him. Good for her, not that it was any of Nathan’s business. It might make it easier for him and Victoria to fool around too.

Nathan hopped off his stool and walked past them. “Well, I wish you the best of luck with your disturbing fetishes.” 

He left before they could defend themselves, not really wanting to hear the argument for why any girl would want a threesome with Mark Jefferson and Frankenstein’s Monster. Not that Logan was dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster. He was just that ugly.

Nathan’s eyes wandered every so often to look for Warren. Searching for bushy brown hair or that eye-catching smile. It took nearly superhuman effort to force himself not to look. Like weaning off a goddamn drug. He wondered if Warren was going through this too and then he really had to stop thinking before the thoughts led him through a rabbit hole. He would murder, seriously murder, someone for a drink right now.

His prayers were answered when a guy bumped into him, the drink in his hand sloshing onto Nathan’s thankfully waterproof jacket. “Hey, watch it!” Nathan shouted, on the edge of getting pissed.

The guy slurred through his apology and the sharp scent of alcohol permeated from his breath. “Wait a minute,” said Nathan. The guy attempted to leave, but Nathan held the wrist with the drink in it. He took the cup, it reeked of alcohol. “You’re drunk.”

“N-no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sloppy, sloppy reply. Nathan grinned.

“You’re fucking drunk. C’mon, where’d you get the booze?” 

“I don’t have any,” he answered. 

His stubbornness annoyed Nathan, but he knew he was going to cave. He didn’t have a choice. Nathan just needed a different tactic. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Daniel.” _God_ Nathan hated that name. 

“Danny,” Daniel’s nose crinkled at the replacement, “if you tell me about where you got the booze, there might be something in it for you.”

“Like what?” 

“Liiiike, I won’t rat you out to Madsen and his goons over there. Are you here on a scholarship? Don’t answer that, it won’t matter if you get expelled.” As if Nathan would snitch on anyone’s business. It was a bluff and anyone who knew Nathan would know it, but dear Daniel had no idea as he paled. “But, say you were to get caught under natural circumstances. My family owns this shit ass school. I could say a few magic words and ‘poof’ you’ll be trouble-free. We can help each other out here.” Another bluff. 

Daniel frowned, his intoxicated brain mulling over his options. Nathan counted. _Three, two, one._ On cue, his shoulders slumped. “He’s over there, by the bathrooms. The Batter,” said Daniel, pointing to a guy dressed like a baseball player. Not very original. “Good luck, though.”

“Thanks, brah. I owe you one.” They both knew Nathan owed him nothing.

Upon closer inspection Nathan realized there was a white morph suit underneath the black and white baseball attire. It was actually kind of creepy. But Nathan’s desire for booze was stronger than any unsettled feeling he might have, so he walked up to the guy, hands in his jacket. 

“Hey, your friend Danny said you could hook me up.”

“Aren’t you Danny?”

“What?” 

“Danny Zuko. From Grease.”

Oh. Nathan supposed he was. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. The fat kid dressed as Star Trek.” 

“Star Trek is a franchise, idiot.”

Seriously? Nathan just barely avoided rolling his eyes. “He’s dressed as a fucking Klingon. I speak nerd, okay? Get off my dick, I’m just here for some booze.”

The Batter crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, leaning the baseball bat against the edge of his chair. “VIP section not good enough for you? How’s it feel to know that David Madsen won’t fall for your stupid rich elitist bullshit?” 

A prickling feeling rose on the back of Nathan’s neck. His anger was surfacing. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Why don’t you take your mask off and say that to my fucking face?”

There was a pause where The Batter stared at Nathan, his head lazily tilted to the side. “I know it was you who did that to Warren’s door.”

Nathan blanked out for a second, not expecting the accusation. Was this one of Warren’s friends? Warren never mentioned having friends so he had no idea who this person was. The mask was driving Nathan crazy. 

“So it _was_ you,” he repeated after Nathan took too long to respond.

“You just said that.”

“I wasn’t sure, Warren never told anyone who did it.”

Nathan didn’t want to talk about Warren. Especially to some asshole who had no idea what he was talking about. “The fuck’s this got to do with anything?”

“What did he do? Step on your shoes? Refuse to do your math homework? Speak out of turn?”

“That is none of your motherfucking business.”

The Batter shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you got mad at him simply for existing. You’ve done worse for less.”

Nathan was about to lose his mind. He wanted to reach over and rip the fucking mask off his face and bash it in. Wring his neck until he choked. Kick his ass until he was black, blue, and red all over. If Nathan’s teeth were clenched any harder they would break. “Okay, who the fuck are you? You don't know goddamn shit about me, so don't pretend you do, you fucking punk. You wanna take this outside or what?”

The masked fucker titled his head towards the security officers near the entrance. Squaring up wasn't going to be possible with this many security measures. Plus, Nathan doubted this guy had the balls to fight him anyway. “If you want to get suspended, be my guest.” 

Nathan laughed ruefully. “You think I'll get suspended? Try me and suspension will be the least of your worries.”

The Batter’s hands closed around his bat in a silent threat and Nathan eyed it warily. Trust Madsen to check for alcohol but not for fucking weapons. Not that Nathan fucking cared. He’d use his goddamn teeth if he had to. 

A hand closed on his shoulder, Nathan started, glaring at the offender with wide eyes. “Whoa there, man.” It was Dana’s stupid boyfriend. “Ease down, you two.”

“Oh fuck off, Trevor, I was about to beat him to a pulp,” said The Batter.

“Not in my party you’re not.”

“ _Your_ party?” 

Trevor clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Dana’s party.” 

“Face it, you’re one of them now.”

Nathan had no idea what this beef was about but he wanted absolutely zero part of it. The Batter had tensed up and Nathan could see the outline of a frown beneath his mask. Trevor ran a hand down his face. “Look, man, you’re gonna get kicked out. What were you here for, booze?” He asked Nathan.

Nathan didn’t say anything, scowl frozen on his face. Trevor sighed and turned to The Batter. “Just give him the booze, man.” 

“No.”

There was no fucking way Nathan was going to sit there and listen to their bickering. He didn’t give two shits about drinking anymore. His temper had cooled down and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful about that or bitter. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m outta here.”

Trevor tried to appease him by placing his hand on his shoulder but Nathan shook it off. They kept arguing as he walked off to the VIP section. Madsen was there and shot him a dirty look. Nathan returned it. Hayden was also there, solemnly chewing on a potato chip.

Nathan sat down next to him. “Gimme some of that,” he said. Hayden passed him the bag of chips. 

“You look like an unlit match,” said Hayden. 

“The fuck’s that mean?”

“Your face is all red and pissed off. What’s up?” 

“This party fucking blows, that’s what’s up.”

Hayden made a noncommittal sound and reached over to take another chip. “They’re not letting people in after they leave. In case they get high or drunk in their dorms then come back. It’s evil.”

“Fuck the police,” said Nathan, just loud enough so David would hear.

“Amen to that, brother. I wish Rachel was here, she knew how to party with or without drugs.”

Nathan soured. “I don’t want to talk about Rachel right now.” Hayden and Rachel were friends, but Nathan had no idea if they had been close or not. It was hard to tell who she considered her real friends, since she hooked up with any creature with a pulse. 

“Fair enough,” Hayden conceded. “I think I’m gonna bounce soon. I wanted to see who won the contest but I believe the winner is pretty obvious.”

They spoke at the same time. “Victoria.”

Hayden sucked the chip dust out of his thumb and stood up. “You coming? We can actually try out some of that shit you brought earlier.”

“Thanks, but I want to stay. Support Victoria and all that shit. Maybe after the announcement.” 

“I’ll save a bowl for you.” They exchanged a semi-complicated handshake that was reserved for the two of them. It left Nathan’s hand with cheese dust and Hayden’s saliva, which he quickly wiped off on the arm of the couch. 

Hayden and Victoria were the only two people he could say he _truly_ enjoyed hanging out with in the Vortex Club. He was chill and laid back, not really caring for much except wholesome, druggie fun. Void of drama, unlike everyone else. 

Trevor returned then, much to Nathan’s chagrin, red solo cup in hand. If he thought Nathan was going to apologize to that little shit from earlier, he was gonna have another thing coming. Nathan threw his arms to the back of the couch and fixed him with a scowl. “What do you want?”

“I know things got a bit shaky back there—”

“That’s an understatement.”

“—and I want to apologize on behalf of my friend.” 

“You? Apologize? Why should you apologize? Why would you even care?”

“You’re Dana’s friend and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Realization hit Nathan then. “You want to join the club.” 

The Vortex Club voted new members in on a majority system. But some members had more influence than others and whomever they voted on had a higher chance of getting in. Victoria, for example, could influence Courtney, Taylor, Nathan, Zachary—and by extension, Logan—to vote in favor. That was already an automatic win. However, getting Victoria’s vote was not an easy task, as she usually made people grovel for months before allowing them in. The only person that could influence Victoria was Nathan. Trevor was playing it smart.

Trevor shrugged but nodded. “It’s not just that. I don’t want any more drama between my old friends and my new—and Dana’s friends. Plus, he can get pretty confrontational and we’re all sick of it.” 

“Who the fuck is he anyways?” 

Trevor’s face pinched and he shook his head rapidly. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Don’t turn this into a big deal, dude. Just take this peace offering.” 

Nathan eyed the red solo cup. Alcohol. “Fucking finally,” he said, accepting it. He took a long swig, then made a face. It tasted worse than usual. 

Trevor snickered. “Take what you can get, dude. It’s like the Prohibition up in this bitch. Madsen’s watching, by the way, so try and be subtle.” 

Sure enough, David Madsen was staring a hole into the side of Nathan’s head. Nathan finished the drink quickly, before he got the idea to come over and slap it out of his hand. It wasn’t very strong, unfortunately, and Nathan doubted he’d get more than a little lightheadedness. But he was grateful for even that. 

“Thanks, man,” said Nathan. “I’ll put in a good word for you with Victoria.”

“It’s no biggie, don’t worry about it. I just want everyone to have a good time. I’m gonna go catch up with Dana. The judging’s going to start in a few minutes, see you.” With that, Trevor left. 

You know what, Trevor was an alright dude. He wasn’t the usual type for the Vortex Club, but who gave a shit. David hadn’t stopped staring at him, so Nathan left the VIP section in case he had a breathalyzer shoved up his ass or something. 

Dana and Trevor were setting up the stage for the costumes, and Nathan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of costume Warren would have. If it was anything close to a winner. If him and Victoria were up on the stage, Nathan wouldn’t know who to root for. 

Speaking of Victoria, Nathan heard her voice shouting over the music. She was by one of the snack tables, staring down at some poor girl in a really good Queen of Hearts costume. After a few minutes of Victoria’s verbal onslaught, The Queen of Hearts—Sarah, Nathan thought her name was—left in tears. Victoria had a smug smile on her face. 

“Getting rid of the competition, huh?” Nathan approached her. 

“She had a really good costume, can you blame me?”

“Please, your costume is a million times better. You could have trumped her easily.” 

Victoria crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, I’m not taking any more risks like in the last contest.” 

Nathan didn’t mention how he did everything in his power to prevent her from winning. Without context, she would be beyond pissed. Maybe enough to end the friendship. With context, it would open a whole other can of worms that Nathan would never be ready for. 

Her eyes flicked up and down over Nathan. “And what are you dressed as?”

“John Travolta. Grease. Come on, Victoria, you know this.”

“Sorry, I haven’t seen it.”

“It’s a classic, how could you—” Nathan cut himself off, rubbing at his temple. He was starting to sound like Warren with his film obsession. Not that his was any better. “Are you still pissed at me?” 

“For what you said the other day? No.”

“Then at what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m pissed at you.” 

“You don’t _think?”_

Victoria made a vague gesture with her hand. “I’m… upset, but I don’t know at who or why.”

Nathan shrugged. “Sounds relatable.” 

She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know. The contest is starting soon, I’m probably just stressed. I’m sober too, so that’s something.”

Nathan turned his head and the world seemed to spin a little faster. Honestly, he’d offer some booze to Victoria, but Nathan would rather die than have to interact with that little asshole again. 

The mic hummed and the music lowered, Dana was on the stage. The lights behind her made her red wig look all the more striking against all the black and white. “Hello, spooks and ghouls, vampires and werewolves, geeks and shrieks…”

“That’s my cue,” said Victoria. She straightened her back and fixed Nathan with a familiar smug look. “I’ll be sure to show you Mark Jefferson’s camera after I win. Maybe I’ll let you borrow it.”

“I’m shaking in anticipation,” Nathan deadpanned, but there was a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Knock ‘em dead, Vic.”

There was a glint of determination in her eyes as she approached the stage. Nathan’s smile vanished. The alcohol was working. He needed to sit down. 

ooo

Nathan claimed a stool near the bar—if “claimed” meant threatening the person sitting on it and telling them to scram—and asked the bartender for a glass of water. The alcohol was actually kind of strong, but not in the way you’d expect alcohol to be. Everything seemed so unfocused and blurry at the edges and there was a persistent buzzing in his head that wouldn’t stop. 

The finalists were up on the stage, none of them anywhere close to beating Victoria. She stood proudly upon the platform, preening at the attention she was receiving. All eyes on her. 

Dana’s voice was loud—too loud, it gave Nathan a headache. “Aaaand the judging has now been concluded! Who will be America’s Next Top Monster? Announcing the winner will be our very special guest. Give it up for Mark Jefferson!” 

There were a lot of confused murmurs in the crowd, obviously not expecting Jefferson to be at a costume party, only to have them replaced by raucous laughter when Zachary stepped on the stage in his Jefferson attire and persona. 

“Settle down, students, unless you want detention!” Cue more laughter. “Alright, okay, it’s time to announce the winner of our annual Halloween Bash costume contest. Envelope please!”

Not going to lie, if the football thing didn’t work out Zachary could go into acting. The crowd was loving his performance and he did a good job not breaking character. All that was missing was the drugging and the kidnapping and the monologuing. Other than that, he was golden. 

“And the best costume goes to...”

Nathan braced himself.

“Victoria Chase!” 

Polite applause erupted like thunder in Nathan’s eardrums. A spotlight shone on Victoria as she walked towards the mic to give her speech. It was bright, too bright, and Nathan had to squint.

“Thank you so much for this! I’d like to dedicate this prize to everyone who supported me and all the students for being so dedicated in their pursuit. It’s an honor to win the Everyday Heroes—” Victoria cut herself off with a sharp inhale.

Oh _shit._

“—t-the costume contest.” It was too late, everyone had heard. A wave of murmurs and giggles rippled through the crowd. Victoria’s face had turned beet red, but she tried her damndest to maintain composure. “And I’d also like to dedicate this to Maxine Caulfield. With the entirety of Blackwell and Arcadia Bay looking out for her and spreading the word, I have no doubt that we will find her and return her to her rightful place among the students, where she belongs. Thank you.” 

A voice called out from somewhere in the back of the crowd. “You suck, Victoria!” The crowd applauded Victoria—a few jeers here and there—as she accepted her prize and walked off the stage. The mic returned to Dana who began announcing some bullshit Nathan didn’t care enough to hear. 

Nathan’s eyes followed Victoria as she walked hurriedly towards the VIP section, her head hanging. He hopped off the stool to chase after her, only to be hit by a wave of vertigo. Shit, shit, _shit,_ what the fuck was going on with him? He held onto his seat for balance, waiting for the sudden dizzy spell to pass. “Victoria, wait!” She didn’t hear him. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, his stumbling footsteps trailing after her. Everything was just so goddamn _loud_ and _bright_ and everytime he grazed someone he could feel goosebumps raise on his flesh. Something was happening but he couldn’t _think._

Crossing the room was like swimming against the current. A loud splash came from the far end of the pool where someone fell in. He didn’t have the time to care. He caught Victoria at the tail end of the closing door, pushing past it to find her at the mouth of a corridor. He placed his shoulder on her hand—his hand on her shoulder, _fuck_ —and she turned around, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Vic, what—what happened out there?” 

When she spoke, Victoria’s voice was high pitched with a nasal inflection. “You saw what happened, Nathan! Everyone saw!”

Nathan’s was slow and hoarse. “Saw what?” 

“What a fraud I am! How this was just… a _replacement_ for the fucking Everyday Heroes Contest! Fucking Zachary dressed up as Mark and made the announcement and everything! It’s a joke! I’m a fucking joke!” 

“You’re not a joke, Victoria, this is just some stupid contest. I mean, didn’t you win? You got what you wanted."

“Exactly! This is a stupid contest! I put all that fucking effort and—and backstabbing and everything! And for what? A cheap, outdated camera?” Her breath hitched as she looked at Jefferson’s old 1980’s Nikon. Tears fell onto the lens. “Because I couldn’t handle losing the real contest. I made a complete fool of myself and everyone knows!” 

Victoria’s throat made a choking sound as she cried; her face turning red and the wet trails of her tears leaving temporary marks down her cheeks. “And the, the reason I lost,” she continued, pausing for light gasps of air, “the reason I lost is because I’m not fucking talented! I don’t have any skill and everyone hates me! Even Mark!” 

Nathan’s heart wrenched at her every word. He had to tell her. He needed to tell her why she lost the contest, and Nathan’s part in the decision. “Victoria,” he said, before he could think clearly enough to stop himself. “Vic, you didn’t lose because your entry wasn’t good. You—you lost the contest because, because of m—”

“Don’t try to convince me that it was a fluke or anything, I know it wasn’t.” Victoria cut him off. “I haven’t told you this, but I’ve been sending my photographs to galleries all over the United States. And they were rejected. Every. Single. One. I have over a dozen rejection letters stuffed in a shoebox under my bed reminding me that I’m not good enough. I work my ass off and what do I have to show for it?” 

Nathan’s mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. He could barely focus on what she was saying. “You’re not a failure, Victoria. Everybody gets rejected.”

“Not you! Or Max! Or Rachel! People _hate_ me! You didn’t see their faces when I fucked up at the speech. They _loved_ it. They loved that I fucked up. That Perfect Queen Bee Victoria was slipping and made a fool of herself in front of everyone!” 

“It’s not a big deal, so what if people don’t like us? You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

Victoria released an indignified scoff. “Sure, Nate. Thanks for being so supportive. Shows how much you know me.” 

“I don’t know what else to say! You bring that stuff on yourself.” 

“God, just stop. I can’t—I can’t deal with this right now,” her voice was cracking. “I’m gonna go. I need some time to think and get away from all this.” 

“No.” The word spilled like sand from his mouth, slow and rough.

Victoria turned on her heel and walked away, the clacking sound pounding on Nathan’s skull like hammer against nail. Nathan wanted to follow her, but a blink from his eyes and she was gone. 

What the fuck was happening to him? Cold sweat had broken out from the back of his neck, his shirt was stuck to his flesh. His skin felt like it had been replaced with pinpricks and white noise, rubbing against each other like ants crawling on his skin. His hands couldn’t stop shaking. He needed somewhere to breathe. Splash some water on his face, do _something_ to get him out of this trance. 

He found himself heading toward the direction of the girl’s bathroom, inside the main school building. Away from all the noise and people and lights and touching. The bathroom where he shot Chloe— _threatened_ to shoot Chloe. 

It smelled like febreze, clorox, and pool chlorine. Nathan headed straight for the sink, his mouth gaping open at the sight of his reflection in the mirror. His pupils were _huge._ Inky blackness swallowing the blue of his iris like a black hole. He had been drugged. 

Nathan wracked his memory for what type of drug it could be. Not the ones he gave the girls in the Dark Room. He would have been unconscious right now. There weren’t any hallucinations. If anything he felt drunk. The kind of drunkenness you take after drinking pure gasoline straight from the hose. 

“What the _fuck,”_ he whispered to himself. It was from the drink. It had to be. He got drugged from that fucking pissant with the baseball costume. And to think he almost admitted to Victoria about the contest, the Dark Room. That would have been catastrophic. He wasn’t in the right mind to control himself. He needed to get away, lock himself up in his room until everything blew over. Despite the drug, or maybe because of it, his anxiety was spiking up. He clamped his hands on the basin, trying to control the shaking.

“You’re fine, get a hold of yourself,” Nathan muttered to himself, staring down the drain in the sink. “Just—just stay away from everyone tonight and you’ll be fine. Nothing will happen. Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay.” 

That was until he heard the stall behind him open. A soft, “Nathan?” emerging from it. Nathan’s head snapped up to look at the reflection. He recognized that voice.

Warren stood behind him, head to toe soaking wet. A concerned yet unfocused look in his eye. They locked eyes through the mirror and saw Warren’s jaw clench, his adam’s apple bobbing from swallowing. 

“Nathan, we need to talk.”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's costume (and a sneak peek into Warren's) was inspired by [this drawing](http://everybodysvoodoodoll.tumblr.com/post/152343535576/warren-as-marty-mcfly-back-to-the-future-nathan) by [everybodysvoodoodoll](http://everybodysvoodoodoll.tumblr.com/), who was gracious enough to give me permission to use it in my fic! Be sure to shower them with love, they're amazing!


	18. Giving Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey wassup youtube exposure here back from the dead
> 
> Haha, but no really, if you're reading this thank you so much for your patience. These past few months have really been the fucking roughest of my life and I'm just glad that my fic and your support has been a constant through all these changes. For a point of reference between these two chapters I've: gotten a job, started school, lost a best friend, gotten fired from said job, gained a best friend, lost a pet, got hit by two hurricanes one of which destroyed my country, stopped studying, moved to another country, got another job, lost another best friend, got kicked out of an apartment, got my own apartment and am living by myself for the first time in my life. It's been... really crazy.
> 
> I want to personally thank [this wonderful person](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JoelMiller/pseuds/JoelMiller) whom without her I would have never cranked out this chapter or gotten through this patch in my life. 
> 
> I don't want to make any more promises about future chapters, just know that I haven't given up on this fic and though I can't promise I will update frequently, just know that I haven't forgotten about it. I'm not good at replying to message but I read every single one of them and they help me get through the day and find the motivation to keep going. 
> 
> Anyway, you're not here to listen to my rambling so without further ado, I give you the long awaited Chapter 18.

**[You, October 23 9:23 AM]**

_ Good morning!! _

**[You, October 23 9:26 AM]**

_ Look what I found outside my window!! _

**[You, October 23 9:28 AM]**

_ [IMAGE ATTACHED] _

**[You, October 23 9:28 AM]**

_ I think it’s a Robin’s nest. Do you think this picture is good enough for Mr. Jefferson’s class?  _

**[You, October 23 9:28 AM]**

_ Probably not. I’ll have to get closer.  _

**[You, October 23 9:46 AM]**

_ Well, good news I got the picture. Bad news… _

**[You, October 23 9:47 AM]**

_ [IMAGE ATTACHED] _

**[You, October 23 9:47 AM]**

_ Yep, that’s my dumb ass on the floor. But don’t worry, I’m good. See my thumbs up? That means I’m okay. No broken bones here. Just one bruise. Or ten. Yeah, that feels like ten. At least I’ll get a C- right? _

ooo

How did Warren ever think he was straight?

Memories of him and Nathan had been playing in his mind on a neverending loop.  Warren recalled the times he stared at Nathan for a little too long, where he felt something light and ticklish flutter in his stomach. Like at the Drive-In, where they had sat closer than needed. Warren still remembered the feeling. Relaxed, a bit hazy, a bit warm. Nathan closed his eyes every time he took a drag. Warren stared at his eyelashes. The way his lips puckered around the pipe. Flushed cheeks. Warren would have kissed him, he believed, if he hadn’t made himself look away. 

Yes, Warren was undoubtedly, hopelessly bisexual. 

And pretty damn excited about it too. It felt like he was unlocking a new ability. Something that lay dormant in his system from long ago, awakened by a new calling. 

Wow, only he could make discovering your sexuality sound lame as fuck. 

Nathan Prescott was… unknown, for now. He definitely liked girls if his, uh,  _ relationship  _ with Rachel signified anything. But Warren wasn’t quick to give up hope. The only thing he had to figure out was what he was hoping for. 

He thought about it in the days following their argument, endless possibilities buzzing around in his head, unable to escape him. What did he want from Nathan? Friendship? Sure. Friendship was enough, heck, it was more than enough. Hanging out, having adventures, watching films, saving the world. Fuck, Warren would give anything for that. 

But what if it was more? An honest to god relationship. A boyfriend. His heart felt light just thinking about it. He didn’t know what having Nathan Prescott as a boyfriend might be like; probably all the shit he said earlier about hanging out and having adventures, but with some kissing thrown in there. Holy shit.

God, he had it  _ so _ bad. 

However, taking it to the next level seemed impossible, especially after the argument they had the other day. Nathan hadn’t said so much as a word to him since—under the pretense that they were never really friends—which had just about as much truth in it as the world being flat. 

There was  _ something _ up with Nathan. There had to be. What they had was real, he was sure of it. After all, who knew how Nathan’s mind worked. He was pushing Warren away for a reason, and Warren was torn between giving him space and hoping he would figure it out by himself, or taking Nathan by the shoulders and shaking some sense into him. Yeah, that probably wouldn’t work.

He wished he had somebody he could talk to about it. Warren wasn’t anywhere near experienced when it came to any of this. Especially the whole bisexual thing. What should he do? What did he like in guys? Should he tell anyone? What’s a bear?

The Internet could solve more than a few of these questions (and probably raise many others), but the whole “coming out” thing was something he had to figure out for himself. He knew some people got shunned or worse for coming out, and Blackwell wasn’t the most inclusive school out there. But Warren wasn’t the most private person to begin with.

And so he decided he would test the waters first.

ooo

**[You, October 24 2:13 PM]**

_ Did you know theres a type of moth that doesnt have a mouth? It comes out of the cocoon then starves to death in five days. Nature’s pretty crazy, am i right? _

**[You, October 24 2:20 PM]**

_ Anyway, it seemed like the kind of thing you’d be into. It’s called an atlas moth, if you wanna look it up sometime.  _

ooo

He met with Stella between classes, under the pretense of discussing their Halloween costumes. Warren planned this carefully—not so much what he was going to say—but exactly how much time it would take for Stella to process it, relying on the bell for the next class to ring and give him an excuse to bolt, if necessary. 

It was a warm day, and the pair sat under the shade of an elm tree. A few students milled about in the courtyard, walking between classes, all stuck in their own little world to notice them. Warren fidgeted with the grass next to him, pulling at it anxiously. It wasn’t that he was afraid. Stella was cool and would probably take the news well, and it wasn’t like he had been bottling this up for longer than three days. What made him so jittery was knowing that once this came out, that was it. It was real. Warren Graham was attracted to guys and he was going to do something about it.

“So,” Stella said, notebook and pencil in hand, she always took things a bit too seriously, “costume ideas, give ‘em to me.” 

“Hey, about that,” Warren started, then stopped. How exactly was he supposed to bring it up? Should he just say it outright or ease it in? He really should have prepared for this better.

“I was thinking of going as Harley Quinn, but not like sexy Harley, I’m talking about the original one. But white face paint is  _ so annoying _ to apply and getting the full body jester outfit might be kind of expensive. What do you think?”

“It sounds cool,” was Warren’s expert opinion. 

“Did you know Brooke is going to dress up as Mako from Pacific Rim? Miss I’m-Too-Cool-For-Halloween is coming up decked out in a Jaeger Pilot outfit. Can you believe her?” 

“That sounds cool,” he repeated. He was so tongue-tied today. Where was his gift of gab when he needed it? 

Stella gave him a raised eyebrow. “Okay,” she said, closing the notebook. “Talk to me.” 

“About what?” 

“About what’s got you eating your fingernails.”

Oh. He hadn’t noticed he was biting on them. He stopped, giving Stella a sheepish smile. She always pointed out his tells.

“Right,” Warren cleared his throat. “I have something to tell you.”

“I’m ready for it.”

“It’s something very important. Well, not  _ very _ important, just mildly important. Somewhat important. It’s not important at all, actually.”

“You’re going to drive me crazy.” 

“I'm going to tell you a secret—well, I mean, it's not really a secret; I just found out and haven't told anyone yet, but you can't tell anyone unless I say so, capische?" 

There was a glint in Stella’s eyes and her knee began to bounce. “I won’t, promise.”

"Also,” Warren continued, an idea sparking in his brain, “I'm only going to tell you  _ one _ thing. Just one. You can't ask anything else after this."

She slapped his knee playfully. “Spit it out already!” 

“Okay,” Warren closed his eyes, and took a breath through his nose. “I am…”  _ Say it. Just say it. It’s not that hard. _ “Bi. Sexual. I like—I like guys. That’s it, that’s the thing.” Smooth. 

“Oh, wow,” Stella said, her eyebrows shooting up. “I can’t say I saw that coming. You were voted straightest guy of the year in my Twitter feed.” 

“I was what in your what?”

“But, hey, that’s so cool! I’m the only person you’ve told?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t really have a lot of people to tell in the first place, but you were the first that came to mind.”

“That’s great, Warren, congratulations!” 

Warren wasn’t sure what she was congratulating him for, doubted she knew either, but she was enthusiastic about it either way. She paused then, and he saw the smile slip from her face as her mind puzzled things together and her gears shifted. Warren braced himself for what he knew was about to come. 

“Wait,” she said, slowly. Then, it was like a bulb had flickered on, and her face stretched into a grin as it clicked.  _ “How did you find out?” _

But Warren prepared for this. "Nope. That was it, no further questions!" 

She clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh my God! Who is it?"

Warren pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key.

"Is it who you went to the Drive-In with? Warren!" She began shaking him, but Warren remained painfully silent. "Does he go to our school? Do I know him? Are you guys dating? Warren, please, you can't just drop this bomb on me!" 

Warren shrugged and crossed his arms. "He  _ may _ or may not go to our school. You  _ might _ or might not know him. Who knows?"

"You're killing me, Warren. I'm actually going to die if you don't tell me." Warren made a brave attempt at not showing any empathy. She dragged her hands down her face. "Why would you even tell me if you're just going to torture me like this?" 

It was actually a lot harder to not blurt out and prattle on about Nathan than Stella gave him credit for. It took every fiber of his being to hold back. To not talk about Nathan's laugh, his eyes, his wit. About the Drive-In, smoking together, laughing together, all those close moments that they shared. It was torture, indeed. 

“Class is starting riiiight abouuut,” the bell rang, “now. It was really nice chatting with you, Stella, but you’re just gonna have to wait and wonder.” Warren gathered his bag and stood up, Stella followed closely behind.

“Just tell me one thing,” she said, wiping the grass off her jeans. “Does he like you back?”

That got Warren to pause. He thought of Nathan, the moments they shared, and the coldness currently between them. Shifting the weight of his backpack from one shoulder to the other, he replied. “I don’t know.”

“You said you got shot down,” Stella said, referring to the time her and Dana pushed him to ask out his ‘crush’, and the lie Warren told her to spare the truth. 

“I… didn’t get to ask,” he admitted, looking sheepishly at the ground.

_ “Warren!” _

“It’s complicated,” he answered, and began walking towards the building. Complicated didn’t even begin to describe his relationship with Nathan Prescott. But he didn’t want to—couldn’t—get into this with Stella. “Class is starting soon, so I better leave. Talk to you later?”

“We have class together, idiot.”

Oh. Right. So he hadn’t planned this as well as he’d thought.

She sensed his hesitation and eased up. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Stella answered. “I trust your judgement, and you have my blessing.”

“Thanks.”

“But if he hurts you,” she cracked her knuckles.

“Noted,” Warren said, shooting her a wry smile. 

ooo

**[You, October 26 5:32 PM]**

_ Do you know why the sky changes color? _

**[You, October 26 5:34 PM]**

_ Molecules and particles in the atmosphere change the direction of light rays. They scatter, and when the sun sets the blue and purple wavelengths scatter away from your line of sight. That leaves the colors with longer wavelengths: red, yellow, and orange. It’s crazy, we see this change every day, but most people don’t question it. It just happens. It’s normal.  _

**[You, October 26 5:35 PM]**

_ But I don’t want to accept that. I want to know WHY things happen and HOW. I can’t just not wonder about space and life and air and shit. Not knowing drives me nuts. _

ooo

There was only oh-so-much he could divulge to Stella without telling her the whole story and revealing who his “mystery crush” was. As it was, her advice was to buckle up and ask him out. No amount of vague excuses got her to let up. Step one of Stella’s Get-Warren-Laid program (Warren hadn’t reacted well to that name, predictably) consisted of Warren cornering Nathan and getting him to talk. He already knew that plan wasn’t going to go well, but Stella wasn’t giving up until he tried. 

So having memorized Nathan’s schedule (which, he admitted, was only a  _ tad _ creepy), he decided the best way to see him was waiting for him outside of his classrooms. Warren tried this three times. 

Once outside the History room before class, where he didn’t see Nathan at all, and presumed he skipped.

The second time was outside Calculus. He’d caught Nathan’s eye then, from across the hall. Nathan promptly turned around and left. 

The last time, he decided that he would leave class early to catch Nathan as he was leaving the room, so as to not miss him. Peeking in through Mr. Jefferson’s classroom, he saw Nathan sitting by the window, gazing outside. The class ended, and all of the students filed out, except Nathan. Warren poked his head in the room again to see his desk empty, and the window open.

Warren really should have taken the hint by then. 

He had mournfully texted Stella, explaining that the plan didn’t work, and that he should give up. She persisted. 

But Warren really, really, should have taken the hint. 

He saw Nathan in the dorms one day, looking sour. He’d slammed the door to his room without giving Warren a second glance. Warren’s heart ached, knowing that there was something up with Nathan and nothing he could do about it. Stella told Warren he needed to be more bold, more obvious about his feelings. And he wasn’t sure this was going to help the situation, but it was worth giving a shot. 

When the halls emptied, Warren walked to Nathan’s empty slate and wrote on it.  _ “Do u have 11 protons? Because ur sodium fine!”  _ It was bold, flirty, and unmistakably Warren. He left the message and went to his dorm, sat in front of his computer in an attempt to distract himself from the rush of adrenaline the pickup line gave him.

When he left a few hours later he saw that the slate had been removed, a cracked hole in the wall where the screws that held it used to be.

ooo

**[You, October 27 1:43 AM]**

_ Have you ever looked at the constellations in the sky? You don’t see many in the city because of light pollution, but I used to go to the woods and… wow.  _

**[You, October 27 1:45 AM]**

_ Itd be awesome if we could go someday. I can bring my telescope and a tent, or we could sleep without one, under the stars. I think that would be pretty cool. _

ooo

This was it, after looking in three different stores, Warren  _ finally _ found the last piece he needed for his costume. An orange puffer vest and his  _ Back to the Future _ ensemble was complete. It was perfect. Not only was Marty McFly an awesome character to an awesome trilogy, but it came with that layer of “Hey! I’m a time traveler too!” that nobody else but him and Nathan knew about. Like an inside joke. 

The sun was beginning to set and Warren was tired from a day of class and last minute shopping. There were a couple of snickers from students as he passed them by, and Warren glanced around to see what they were laughing about. Nothing in particular stood out. 

There was a tense air as he opened the doors to the boys dormitory, though Warren couldn’t place it on anything. Just the feeling that something was wrong, in the way people looked at him, and how everything was so quiet. 

The mystery was short lived as he approached his room. Warren saw what people were laughing about.

Across his door written in bold red letters was one word:  **STALKER.**

Warren’s face heated up as he felt the eyes of other students on him, waiting to see his reaction. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. Jaw clenched and shoulders tensed, Warren opened the door to find—

His room. It was completely destroyed. His mattress had been upturned and torn to shreds, his clothes hung over the tree outside the window, glass from his shattered mirror scattered across the floor, obscenities written on his walls with red paint. 

Behind him, gasps and giggles and people. Turning on his heel, Warren slammed the door, locking it. He pressed his back against it, as if it would help keep them out. 

Fuck, this was… Warren didn’t have the words for it. It was horrible. For once his head felt terribly blank, not being able to think of anything. 

And then it was as if something clicked and all the chemicals in his brain got to work. A flurry of emotions surged through him. Warren didn’t have to wonder who did it. It was bold, threatening, and unmistakably Nathan.

Why would Nathan do this? Warren tried to come up with a logical reason as he stepped over the glass, picking up a tattered textbook, but there wasn’t a logical reason. There were a lot of things Nathan did that weren’t considered logical. Like shutting him out, like ignoring him, like destroying all of Warren’s belongings.

His mind worked differently than Warren’s. Pain and anger was etched in every single ripped page or shattered piece glass. Warren pushed him, and he shouldn’t have. 

There was a rapid knocking that came from the door, followed by an attempt at turning the handle, which normally would have worked because he always left the door unlocked because Warren was so  _ stupid. _

_ “Warren? I heard what happened. Open up, please!” _ Stella’s voice came from the door. 

Warren didn’t want Stella to see this, didn’t want to make her more worried than she already was. “I can’t—Not now, Stella, okay?” He said through the door. 

_ “Are you okay?”  _

“I just want to be alone,” he said shortly. “Sorry.”

It was silent for a few seconds, and when she spoke her voice was feeble.  _ “Okay, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” _

When Warren was sure he was alone, he released a shaky breath. There wasn’t much he could do except clean up and try to salvage whatever was left. He didn’t have a broom and he didn’t want to go outside to get one, so he gathered as much of the glass as he could by hand, throwing them in a trash can. He righted his bookshelf and gathered the books, not bothering to organize them by size and color like he usually would have. Placed the mattress where it belonged, though there wasn’t much he could do with the cotton that spilled out. Warren reached over the open window and gathered the clothes that had landed on the tree branches. The robin’s nest was gone and a glance down showed him the capsized nest with three broken blue eggs. Warren swallowed thickly. 

He was lucky Nathan had spared his computer and camera. That was something. And his clothes were fine, if dirtied. He could pirate most of his books online. He didn’t use mirrors much anyways. 

Warren shouldn’t have pushed Nathan. He had told him from the start that it was over and that had been that. He should have been working on getting over Nathan, not pining over him like some desperate beta phag. 

He always got like this. He pined and clung to people and chased them away. Warren obsessed over Max and chased her away and did the same with Nathan. Because he was desperate and didn’t want to be alone. Nathan was hurt and needed space and Warren just  _ pushed. _

But Max never… did this. Did anything like this. He and Nathan had something  _ special _ goddamnit, they were friends, Warren trusted him with his biggest secret,  _ why the fuck— _

Warren took a deep breath. He couldn’t get angry. Getting angry never solved anything. What was done was done. Warren finally got the message. He was going to leave Nathan alone for good. That was what he wanted from the start. Warren didn’t have the right to be angry.

ooo

The intercom hissed static before clicking.  _ “Warren Graham to the Principal’s office. Warren Graham to the Principal’s office,”  _ it announced in a crackly voice. Around him, his classmates sniggered, knowing it was about the incident from the day before. It was a conversation Warren had been dreading.

Since no amount of time travelling would help him avoid the trip to the office, he put his belongings away and dragged his ass out of the classroom. People laughed as he passed them by. Someone had stuck a note in his backpack that read  _ stalker. _ Funny. 

In the office, Principal Wells was expecting him and so was David Madsen. Principal Wells didn’t bother smiling at him and pointed at the seat in front of the desk. Warren took it, dropping his backpack between his legs. 

“Good morning, Mr. Graham. I take it you know why you’re here,” Principal Wells said, formal as ever.

“Yeah,” Warren answered.

“It has come to my attention that there was an incident that occurred yesterday to your dorm room. Someone sabotaged Blackwell property and your belongings, is that correct?”

Warren nodded. He wished they would just get to the point. 

“Do you have any idea why anyone would do such a thing to you?”

Warren’s brows furrowed.  _ Why?  _ That seemed like an odd question to ask. “No,” he lied. 

Principal Wells intertwined his fingers. “Perhaps you got involved with the wrong crowd? Or provoked another student? What do you think was the reason why they did this?” 

It took Warren a second to process that. “Are you… Are you saying this is  _ my _ fault?” 

“I’m not saying that at all,” Wells said, shaking his head. “Blackwell has a zero tolerance policy on bullying, but we are noticing a trend that began yesterday with other students concerning you. Was there anything you could have done to prevent this?” 

Warren’s hands tightened over the arms of the chair. “Wait, so my room gets trashed and people start picking on me and you’re asking what _ I _ did? Shouldn’t you be trying to find out who did this in the first place?” He was flabbergasted. Why on Earth was this happening?

“Do you know who did it?” Asked Wells. 

_ Yes, _ but Warren couldn’t admit that. Or, more accurately, didn’t want to. “No,” he lied, leaning back on the chair and switching his gaze to David Madsen. He stood there with his arms crossed, not saying a word. His glare had lost the intensity Warren was used to.

“Then, there’s not much we can do about that,” said Principal Wells, standing up. He breathed deeply through his nose. “This school has gone through a lot this past month. We don’t need any more bad press, especially if we go through another situation similar to Miss Marsh.” 

Warren’s mouth opened in a soundless gasp. “I’m not going to—”

Wells cut through him. “You are an outstanding student, Mr. Graham. But if we can’t keep this situation under control—or if this incident were to repeat itself—we can’t risk the stigma it would bring. I would have no choice but to remove you from the toxic environment, for your safety.” 

“Wait, so,” realization hit Warren, “you’re expelling me?” 

“No,” Wells answered, but Warren didn’t feel relieved. “However, if the situation were to escalate we might be forced to.”

Warren looked around, searching for some kind of hint that this was a dream or that he got launched into an alternate universe where the world was upside down. “But that’s bullshit.”

_ “Language,”  _ David snapped. 

“My decision is final, Mr. Graham,” Principal Wells sat in his desk. “And if you don’t respect that, you can think about your actions in detention.” 

Warren had never received detention before. He snapped his mouth shut. None of this made a lick of sense but he felt like there was something missing. His eyes raked over the room, over Principal Wells, David Madsen, the window, the bookshelves, the walls. 

Then Warren spotted a symbol he knew too well hanging on a tapestry. The Prescott family crest. It clicked then.

There were cameras all over campus, even in the boys dorm. Principal Wells knew exactly who did it and was covering for him. The realization made his blood boil. Warren clenched his fists. Did Nathan know? Did he put Wells up to it, or did Wells take the initiative since he was so deep in the Prescott’s pockets already? 

“If that will be all, you are dismissed,” Principal Wells said, and Warren picked up his bag. David escorted him out. “Please behave yourself in these upcoming weeks. Take care.”

ooo 

The past few days gave Warren a persistent headache that didn’t seem to be waning anytime soon. He stopped looking for Nathan in the halls, stopped sending him messages—went cold turkey. Nathan wanted to be alone, fine, he was alone. 

But it was impossible not to think about Nathan, not when everyone seemed so keen on reminding him of what he had done.

At least he was going to hang out in Justin’s room today. It had become a regular thing where the gang met once or twice a week and played video games. The gang being Justin, Luke, Daniel, and Trevor. They were already there by the time Warren arrived, and he took his usual seat by Justin’s bed. Warren was more than happy for the distraction.

And it was almost bliss. Warren had forgotten about the incident, happy to just chat about Halloween, trash-talking the enemy team, and discussing strategies.

That was until what had been haunting him for the past few days was inevitably brought up.

“So,” Daniel said, “who are you stalking?” 

The comment caught Warren by surprise, and the loss of focus threw off his game, causing his character to die. He growled in frustration. “Nobody,” he answered. 

“Nobody’s a stone cold bitch,” added Justin.

Luke scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I bet one of those Vortex goons did it just to mess with him.”

“Why would he stalk anyone in the Vortex Club?” Trevor asked.

“I wasn’t stalking anybody,” Warren said, despite the little voice in his head reminding him that he kinda was. “It was just,” he couldn’t think of a good lie to tell them, so he let the sentence trail off with a sigh. He was a shit liar, but didn’t think he could explain the truth to his friends. 

“Whodunnit?” Justin asked.

The question of the century, one that Warren knew he couldn’t believably fib about. What he could do was shift the focus to another frustration that had been clogging his mind. “It doesn’t matter who did it,” a few mouths opened to argue that it  _ did _ , “but Principal Wells threatened to expel me for it.”

Verbal smokescreen, a trick he picked up from Nathan. It worked like a charm and several indignant replies followed it. Despite the shitty situation, it warmed Warren’s heart to know that they cared about him. 

“What kind of bullshit is that?” Trevor asked. 

“Apparently I’m ‘threatening the peace’ by having people vandalize my stuff. He’s had a  _ real _ headache about it.” Sarcasm, yet another thing adopted from Nathan.

“Can’t say I blame him,” said Justin. “Wait, scratch that. I can say that. I blame him. But have you heard? Blackwell’s funding plummeted after Kate died, and news are calling it a ‘cesspool of bullies and delinquents’. Two missing girls in one year ain’t helping either. Their reputation is in the shitter. After all this, I think the Prescott’s are their only remaining benefactor. ” 

“Did you say Prescott?” Luke asked, turning his head to Warren. Oh shit. “Dude, maybe that’s why Wells isn’t doing shit. Fucking Prescott did it, then bought Wells out.”

Warren’s expression might have betrayed him, but he struggled to lie anyway. “No, I don’t—I don’t think it was him.”

“Why would Warren stalk Nathan Prescott?” Daniel laughed at the thought. 

_ Because I have an insane crush on him, next question. _ Warren squirmed under Luke’s unrelenting gaze and wondered if he had mind-reading powers. After everything that happened, it wouldn’t have been too far fetched.

Luke switched his focus then and Warren breathed a sigh of relief. “The kid’s a psychopath, he doesn’t need a motive. He probably just did it to get a kick out of it and brag about it later to his friends.” 

The match ended and Trevor clicked his tongue. “If that was true I would have heard about it by now.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re in bed with the Vortex Club now?” There was a bite to Luke’s words that nearly made Warren flinch. 

“Let it go, I’m not in bed with anyone, Luke.” 

“Except Dana,” Justin replied. There was an edge to his voice that Warren had never heard before. 

And, shit, it was awkward now. Tension hung in the air like fabric, and nothing could be heard from any of the guys except the quiet clicking of keyboards. Stella had filled him in on the ‘drama’ between Trevor, Dana, and Justin, so Warren didn’t have to guess what it was about. 

“So,” Daniel cleared his throat. “What are your costumes going to be?”

Trevor ignored him, staring straight at Justin. “Seriously, man? I thought we were cool.”

Justin paid him no mind, his eyes glued to the screen. “We are cool.”

Luke butted in. “Clearly not.”

“You got something to say?” Trevor snapped at Luke, harshly closing his laptop. “So I’m dating Dana, from the Vortex Club, and that involves hanging out with her  _ friends. _ I’m not going to join the Vortex Club, and if I did why is that such a fucking crime?”

“Because of what they did to Warren!” Luke snapped right back.

“We don’t know it was them!” 

Warren wanted to shrink into his jacket. This was all his fault. These weekly meetings were supposed to be a sanctuary away from all the bullshit drama out in the halls. Then Warren came in and all his baggage came with him. 

Their petty argument had escalated to a shouting match between Luke and Trevor, with Justin cutting in to tell them to shut the fuck up, and Daniel sending SOS signals to Warren with his eyes. They were fighting over who-did-what to Warren’s room and Warren couldn’t fucking take it any more. He wordlessly left the match and shoved his belongings into his backpack. Their arguments spilled out into the hall as he opened the door, and Warren took satisfaction in having their voices be drowned out by the loud  _ slam _ as he threw it shut. 

Fuck this, honestly. Not only he ruined his friendship with Nathan but now he ruined his friendship with the guys. All Warren did was ruin shit he cared about. He opened the palms of his hands and closed them, digging his nails into skin. 

Whatever. It didn’t matter. He was used to being invisible before, he could be invisible again.

ooo

Warren was sullen on Halloween. He did what he could to avoid drawing attention, ignoring the concerned looks of his friends, taking whatever pranks his peers decided to throw at him. What else was he going to do? He hadn’t seen Nathan at all, not even in the halls, and Warren intended to keep it that way. 

Stella followed him around like a sad puppy. She looked as miserable as Warren felt. He didn’t know what happened, and no amount of prodding got her to open up. As it was, the party was tonight, and Warren did his best to cheer Stella up by talking about it, despite not being excited for it himself. 

They were climbing up the stairs on the way to Stella’s room with Warren animatedly explaining the plot of the third Back to the Future film, which apparently Stella had never seen. 

“Okay, but why cowboys?” She asked, not quite over that part.

“Because cowboys are cool, Stella. What do you have against cowboys?” Warren replied.

“Nothing! It’s just the first two movies have to do with his family and exploring different timelines, I don’t know what that has to do with the Wild West.” 

“It’s when the town first got founded! And it’s with their ancestors so, technically, it’s still about family.” 

Stella raised her hands up. “All I’m hearing is that the third movie sucked.” 

“And all I’m hearing is that you have bad taste,” Warren quipped back. 

“And all  _ I’m _ hearing is that—Look out!” Stella managed to gasp and jump out of the way, but Warren wasn’t so lucky. Sticky liquid spilled over the staircase and onto Warren, soaking him from head to toe. Above them, he could hear Logan and Zachary’s all too familiar cackles.

“That’s what you get, stalker!” Logan whooped.

“Next time, don’t stalk someone!” Zachary continued, albeit less cleverly. 

Warren’s eyes were shut tight to block the liquid, but from the smell and feel of it, Warren could discern it as leftover cooking oil—probably from the cafeteria. 

Stella screeched at them, and Warren could barely catch what she was saying. “Are you guys insane! What the fuck are you—” The sound of footsteps told Warren than Logan and Zach had made their getaway, and Stella’s indignant curses and Spanish slurs fell on no one’s ears except Warren’s. 

“Stella, it’s,” Warren wiped his hand on the clean part of his jeans and then wiped the oil off his eyes, “it’s okay.” 

“Okay?  _ Okay?!”  _ Stella turned to him, her mouth opened in shock. “That is not okay! What part of this is okay?” 

Warren considered turning back time, but from what he knew of time travel he would still be covered in oil, and he didn’t care to explain why to a past-Stella. 

“It’s not okay, but,” he licked his lips, it tasted like fried chicken, “whatever. It’s done. I should clean up.” 

“Come on,” Stella grabbed his wrist and led him to the girls’ dormitory. Warren took extra careful steps so he didn’t slip. Stella’s jaw was set, and her grip on Warren was so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if it bruised. She convinced him to shower in the girls dormitory, “In case those two doucheholes have a part two waiting for you at the boy’s bathroom.” 

Stella cleared out the girls that were there with the nastiest stink eye Warren had ever seen, before ushering him in and promising to bring him some clothes. Warren told her to stop fussing, that he could take care of himself, but she wasn’t having it. He decided not to think too much on the strange situation and undressed himself inside the shower stall. 

Shit like this had been happening for the past couple of days and there was nothing Warren could do about it. He learned that rewinding was just delaying the inevitable and he rather just get the pranks over with than go through them twice. If this was what Kate had to deal with for two weeks, then he could understand why she did what she did.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Their situation was nothing alike, Warren could take the names and the pranks. In some sick way he was used to it, so they didn’t bother him much. On the bright side, it gave him access to the girls’ showers, which was a lot sweeter smelling than the boys’. 

The door opened and Stella announced her presence by dropping some supplies just outside the curtain. She told him to meet her at her dorm when he was done, and Warren made a quip about being in the girls’ shower. There wasn’t a snarky reply, just silence as she left the bathroom.

Predictably, the oil had been difficult to wash off and the bath had taken longer than usual. A few girls had come in and one even took a shower  _ in the stall next to him _ , but no one noticed the boy in their midst. By the time he was done, Warren was beet red despite having abruptly changed the temperature to something a lot colder. 

After drying himself off, he inspected the clothes Stella had brought him. It was a pink t-shirt that was large even on him, and… nothing else. Fortunately, his boxers were the only thing that had remained oil-free so he had no problem putting them back on. He then wrapped the towel around his waist and shimmied his way to Stella’s room.

He was sure she’d get a kick out of Warren wearing an oversized shirt and some spiderman boxers, but any amusing thoughts vanished when he opened the door. 

Stella sat on her bed, face buried in her hands and shoulders quaking with her sobs. 

The sight broke his heart and he moved to sit next to her. “Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” she lied, moving her glasses away to wipe at her tears. “It—it’s just… People are so fucking stupid. You’d think they’d learn, but no.”

“What’s this about?” Warren gently placed his hands on her shoulders. 

“This,” she motioned to Warren. “I can’t see you go through this.”

Warren’s throat dried. Was this about him? “If this is about me, you don’t have to worry. I’m fine, I promise. Seriously.” 

Stella shook her head. He hated this. It was one thing to just be bullied and teased, but he couldn’t stand to see his friends cry over him. He was fine for chrissakes, what more could he do? 

He was about to express that to her when she spoke again, her voice trembling. "Kate's funeral was last weekend." 

The shift caught him off guard, his eyebrows lifting. "What? Nobody told me about that."

"And nobody would have, if Kate's sister hadn't contacted me about it," she swiped through her phone and showed it to Warren, "it looks like it was a beautiful service."

"Where is that? That's not in Oregon," Warren said, taking notice of the naked trees and wet patches of snow below the attendant's feet. 

"Her family wanted to bury her in Colorado, where she's from. They didn't want us to come. They think it's our fault."

Warren frowned. "Our fault?"

"Kate was bullied into suicide and she never talked much about us anyway."

Oh. So that was why Stella was so upset over people tormenting Warren. It reminded her of Kate. Tears flowed down her cheeks and Warren searched for something he could give her to wipe them away. The only thing he could think of was his towel, and he removed it from his waist and gave it to her. She smiled weakly and accepted it. Warren grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it over his crotch.

“That wasn’t your fault, Stella,” Warren tried. She sniffled. “It was, I don’t know, Victoria’s fault. Or the Vortex Club members, or the people that made fun of her after the party. Not yours, you were her friend.”

"That’s the thing, it wasn't anyone's fault, Warren. Kate killed  _ herself _ . Nobody put her on that roof and told her to jump. She went to a party, got messed up, and people made fun of her. People do that. Highschool is like that.”

Her voice became steadier and self-assured as she continued. “And guess what? People get over it! They move on. You know how gossip is, it spreads like wildfire for a few days then it dies and people forget about it. It hadn't even been two weeks! If Kate had survived for a few more days everyone would have forgotten about it!" Stella jostled her glasses so she could wipe at her tears. 

If Kate had survived for a few more days. If Warren had saved her from the roof. If he had figured out his powers in time, he could have stopped her. She would have lived, and she would have gotten better.

"I—I wasn't there for her, I know. Me and Alyssa bailed the second Kate's video caught on fire. It was really shitty, but you don't kill yourself over something like that! She could have gotten help. Real, professional help. We're seniors for chrissake! After we graduate she could've moved to Timbuktu and never looked at our sorry faces ever again!" 

Warren placed his hand atop her arm. "Stella, are you okay?" He asked. It was a stupid question. The stupidest he could ever ask. Stella's face was puffy and there was snot coming from her nose, dripping onto the towel. But Warren didn't know what else to say.

"No, Warren, I'm not okay." Came the obvious answer. "I wasn't there for Kate before or after her death. I wasn't at her funeral, and I'm so. I'm so angry at Kate. For doing what she did. For not holding on. Victoria gave me hell when I won the Everyday Heroes contest, you know?"

"She did?"

"You haven't seen what she wrote in the bathroom stalls. The things she's written on the mirrors, on my slate, the rumors she spread. But guess what? I went to San Francisco. I got my art in a gallery. For all that she tried, she didn't break my spirit." 

Warren gave her a sympathetic smile. 

"And she stopped. No more ugly messages on my page, or shit on my slate, or rumors in the hall. I survived. So, what I'm trying to say is," she moved closer to Warren, "if you're going through shit, with bullying and whomever broke into your room and stuff. I'm not… I’m not gonna flake this time. I’ll be there for you no matter what.”

He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Stella then took a deep breath and asked about how it felt to shower in the girls’ bathroom, the familiar mischievous smile back on her lips. 

Warren joked back, but his chest felt hollow. Hearing what Stella had gone through, and knowing of the pain that he was causing her was too much. Warren was the strong one, he could handle himself. He got up in the mornings and put on a brave face and it still wasn’t enough. 

Warren wished his powers weren’t so limited. That he could go back to before he caused this mess, so that he could avoid causing a whole lot of pain and heartache for his friends. 

ooo

It was embarrassing, really.

Warren was over his crush on Nathan. Really, he was. It was impossible to think about him without his mind dredging up the incident and all the grief it brought his friends. So he stopped thinking about Nathan altogether. 

It was silly that his heart would jump whenever his phone buzzed. Hoping it was—what? An apology? An explanation? Closure?

Warren didn’t need closure. The argument was supposed to be closure, Warren just hadn’t wanted to accept it. 

The party started half an hour ago. Warren laid in bed, already clothed in his full Marty Mcfly getup, searching for the motivation to get his ass in gear and have a good time. Nathan would be there, but he wasn't sure if that thought was meant to encourage or deter him.

His phone laid in his hands, a part of him hoping that the text was from Nathan—another part of him ashamed of that wish.

It was Chloe, which piqued Warren’s curiosity. She didn’t text him often, and he could only imagine what she wanted to do on Halloween night.

**[Chloe, Today 9:33 PM]**

_ [IMAGE ATTACHED] _

**[Chloe, Today 9:33 PM]**

_ explain _

Warren took a moment to make sense of what he was looking at, nose wrinkling in disgust.

**[You, Today 9:33 PM]**

_????????? _

**[You, Today 9:34 PM]**

_ That looks like a rash.  _

_ Not that I’m complaining but why are you showing me this? _

**[Chloe, Today 9:34 PM]**

_ ur a nerd right  _

_ what do i do _

**[You, Today 9:35 PM]**

_ Go to the dermatologist. I’m not a doctor, at least not THAT kind of doctor.  _

_ *DOCTOR WHO theme plays* _

**[Chloe, Today 9:37 PM]**

_ ugh _

_ and to think I was going to invite u to hang _

_ nvm then _

**[You, Today 9:37 PM]**

_ What??  _

**[You, Today 9:37 PM]**

_ Invite me! _

**[Chloe, Today 9:38 PM]**

_ nop _

_ u missed ur chance _

_ unless u buy me lunch _

**[You, Today 9:38 PM]**

_ ;(  _

_ You didn’t have to play me like this… _

**[Chloe, Today 9:39 PM]**

_ yes I did _

_ its more fun _

_ so is it a deal or not _

**[You, Today 9:39 PM]**

_ Its a deal.  _

Honestly? Warren didn’t care if he was skipping the party. In fact, he was overjoyed at the thought. He just really needed to get away from Blackwell and all the bullying and drama. Chloe seemed liked the perfect solution.

**[Chloe, Today 9:57 PM]**

_ dont bring prescock or im kicking both ur asses _

ooo

In all honesty, Warren really shouldn’t have been surprised by it. 

“Breaking and entering,” he said in a flat voice. "That’s your idea of hanging out on a Thursday afternoon.” 

“Are you gonna sit there and complain all day or are you going to hoist me up?” 

The pair found themselves behind an abandoned warehouse near the docks. The place stank like the inside of Frank’s trailer and the cold wind cut right through Warren’s costume. It made him wish  _ Back to the Future  _ took place during the winter, so he’d have a nice, warm coat instead of an outdated jean jacket.

For a moment, Warren missed Nathan’s warm jacket, but he quickly shook that sentiment out of his head.

Well, he had made it this far. Warren helped lift Chloe up so she could reach a broken window. She ignored the obvious health hazard and climbed through. He heard her shoes slap against wet floor on the other side. 

“How is it?” Warren called out. Chloe didn’t reply. “Chloe? C’mon, say something.”

A door opened a little ways from him and he started. Chloe emerged, a wicked grin on her face. “Come in, we don’t have all night!” 

It was dark, the only light source being the dim glow of the streetlamps that filtered from the high rise windows. Faded graffiti covered the walls, chains and wires hung from the ceiling, glass and rubble cracked underneath them with every step they took. Out of all the creepy places he’d entered, this one took the cake by  _ far. _

“Listen, I love horror movies as much as the next guy,” he whispered in case a masked serial killer heard him and jumped out from the shadows, “but why exactly are we here?” 

“Awe, are you scared? Do you wanna go home to your mama?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Man up, nerd!” Her voice echoed in the large space. Warren cringed. “Balls, do you have them?”

“Biologically.” 

“Then act like it.” 

Warren didn’t want to act like a “man”—he didn’t even want to  _ be _ here. He considered telling Chloe, hopefully trying to convince her to take him back to his dorm, but then he remembered Nathan. Blackwell. Stalker. And his shoulders deflated when he realized he would much rather be stuck in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the night than going to a party with his friends. 

That was fucked up, wasn’t it?

Chloe strutted around the warehouse like she was window shopping at a strip mall, perusing over all the abandoned artifacts with mischievous fascination. She picked up a rusted pipe from the ground and dragged it across the floor as she walked, still with that devil-may-care smirk perched on her lips. Warren had been about to speak up, ask what exactly she wanted out of this adventure, when she swiftly raised the pipe and smashed it along a metal beam. It made a  _ clang _ like no other, sound waves reflecting off the walls and piercing Warren’s eardrums, to the point where he had to protect his hearing. 

“Come on,” Chloe tossed him the pipe, “let’s go make some music!” 

Without waiting for his response, she kicked a metal trashcan with enough force to send it flying in the air, dropping years-old contents and a family of rats on the grimy floor. Warren winced at the sound once again. She picked up a rock and threw it at a nearby window, shattering the glass. Stomping around, whistling and whooping, she was determined to make as much noise as she could. 

Warren, however, couldn’t take it. “Chloe—”  _ smash! _ “—I’m not really—”  _ crash!  _ “—in the mood for this—”  _ clang! _

It was clear that Chloe hadn’t heard him—or at least, hadn’t understood him—because she turned around and threw the pipe at him. Warren only barely managed to catch it. “What are you standing around for? This orchestra ain’t gonna play itself!” 

“I don’t feel well right now,” Warren stated. 

Chloe waved him off, “Pssh, this’ll make you feel better.” She grabbed two trash can lids and smashed them together like cymbals. “Destruction and mayhem are nature’s best medicine.” 

She danced to the rhythm of her own dissonance. The closer she was to Warren, the louder the cymbals became. At some point, Warren couldn’t take it anymore and dropped his pipe, closing his hands around her wrists to get her to stop. “Chloe! Please. This isn’t fun.”

A hurt expression flashed through her features before she replaced it with a miffed eyeroll. The cymbals made one last  _ clang! _ as she threw them to the ground in a petty move. Turning on her heel, she stomped away from him. “Wow,  _ excuse _ me for trying to have some fun. I thought you were cooler than that. My bad.”

In any other circumstance—any other day—Warren would have been ecstatic to romp around and cause meaningless chaos. At the moment, his stomach felt like it was lined with lead and there was a persistent ache in his heart. He hadn’t known what he expected out of this trip, but it made sense that he would lose another friend.

“That’s not it,” he pleaded. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve had a really shitty week and I just. I keep pushing everyone away and it’s all my fault, and I don’t know what to do, or if i can even do anything, if maybe I des—”

“Whoa there, cowboy,” Chloe replied, turning back to him and raising her hands. “Didn’t ask for your life story; I had a shitty week too and I thought I could blow off some steam.”

“Oh,” Warren replied, stupidly.

Chloe crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I bet my week was worse than yours.”

Warren laughed ruefully. “I’d take that bet.”

There were tracks of other teenagers that had come before them, a beaten up couch and other discarded furniture serving as evidence. Chloe settled herself comfortably on it before Warren could warn her of the dangers of rat feces and asbestos. 

“Step-douche wants me to get a bodyguard,” she said, an edge of bitterness to her tone, but the look she gave Warren said otherwise: this was a challenge.

He took a moment to recollect what had happened in the past week, not wanting to jump into the drama in Blackwell right away. “I had to tell my dad I crashed the car and left it in a town an hour and a half away. He wasn’t happy.”

“When I pointed out he couldn’t afford a bodyguard he threatened adding bars to my window.”

“Damn, that sucks.” He gave her a sympathetic frown. 

“Oh, he can try. Soon as he said that I swiped a blowtorch and hid it under the bed.”

“Smart move,” Warren tapped his chin. There was a lot of ammo he could use about his shitty week to one-up Chloe, but whenever he came even remotely close to mentioning Nathan’s name his throat would close up painfully. “I had used cooking oil dropped on me the other day by some jocks.” 

“Holy shit,” Chloe’s eyebrows shot up. “What for?”

“It’s ah—It’s a long story.”

“All ears, over here.”

Warren kicked at a stray bottle, trying to weave the story in his head. “They’ve taken a liking to calling me a stalker. It’s not a big deal,” he quickly added, “it doesn’t even bother me. You know, it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been through worse.”

“Stalker, huh? What’d you do?”

Warren stilled, because up until now he hadn't really thought about it. He didn't know how to explain what happened, how to tell Chloe why the words  _ stalker _ wrapped around his body and drenched him in so much embarrassment and hurt because of who it came from.

"It...I..." Warren floundered, and he watched Chloe as she eyed him with a raised brow. "I was persistent on getting someone’s attention and they didn't take too kindly to it."

"Shit.” Her reply was more of a statement than anything else. “Who?" 

Warren kicked an empty soda can, the clink of aluminum hitting against the edge of his shoe sounding much louder than it probably was. There was no point in trying to hide it—this was Chloe, she was bound to find out anyway. "Nathan."

"What? For real?" Chloe's eyes widened slightly, "Thought you two were like superbros. What kind of James Bond stalker shit did you have to pull for Nathan to bite back?"

Warren shifted his weight, and the second he opened his mouth, he couldn't help but let the words tumble out like the nervous jitter in his leg was a timer and the second it stopped he’d have no more time to continue. “I don’t know what happened. One day, things were good, and the next, Nathan was telling me that we couldn’t be friends and just up and left.” Warren let  out a frustrated breath. “Just...look, I’m fine with being left behind, alright? I’m used to it. But he just fucked off without any reason, and he wouldn’t tell me anything. I wanted answers so I waited for him outside of his class and started texting him way too much, like too much for a human being to text. That's weird, right? God it's weird. But he—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Chloe interrupted, placing her hands on his shoulders to get his attention. “Slow down there, speedy McGee. All you did was text him too much and wait outside his classroom for him?”

“Yeah.”

“No propelling down a rope from his ceiling? Hiding in the bushes outside his window? Using your  _ obviously  _ amazing tracking skills—”

“Hey!”

“To follow him around town?”

“...No?”

“Then that’s bullshit!”

Warren stepped back at the intensity of her voice, her hands falling from his shoulders. He was rendered confused, but it was only momentary. “What?”

“You heard me.  _ Bullshit.  _ Shit to the bull. Pretty sure hanging around with that asswipe means you’re familiar with the term.” She gave him a look, and suddenly Warren felt much smaller in her presence. “Don’t you see what’s going on? Warren, open your eyes!”

But he couldn’t. He really couldn’t.  _ He _ fucked up.  _ He  _ ruined it. It was his fault, and Chloe not sharing that same idea wasn’t helping him grasp the situation. “I don’t—”

“Oh my god,” she scoffed, as if to say _ this is unbelievable _ , before throwing her hands in the air dramatically, “Nathan’s making you feel like shit for actually giving a rats ass about him! And you? You’re just,” she gestures towards him with her hands, “you’re just going along with it and blaming yourself like a dumbass.” Chloe reaches forward to flick him on the head, and Warren let out a surprised  _ ‘ow?’  _ before recoiling from her hand.

And maybe it was the asbestos, or maybe the flick really did jar something in his brain, because an unsettling feeling of doubt settled in Warren’s stomach. 

“What? No, I’m not—” Blaming himself? Warren knew he couldn’t say that believably. “It’s complicated.”

Was it? Who knew what the hell was happening with Nathan Prescott, but in the end Warren’s biggest crime was caring about him too much. He could have handled it differently, but so could have Nathan. Nathan didn’t just cut Warren out of his life, he straight up lied to his face in a way that stung _ , _ saying that he was using Warren to look for Rachel. 

What if he wasn’t lying?

No, fuck that bullshit, there wasn’t any way in hell that Warren imagined the bond he had with Nathan. Nathan might have been using him at first, but Warren was using Nathan just as much. It all stopped at some point though. At the diner, when Warren revealed his powers, or maybe before that. At some point he began to trust Nathan, and Nathan just turned and threw it all back in his face. 

“Uh, dude, you alright?” Chloe’s voice broke into his thoughts. When Warren looked back at her, he realized she was looking at him with an expectant gaze, like she was waiting him to blow up any second. Following her line of sight, he figured out that the reason Chloe was looking at his hands was because his fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were turning white.

He quickly loosened his fists and shook them a little, shying away from her stare. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, and my pubes are made of diamond,” Chloe snarked, the crudeness jarring Warren away from his denial. “Nathan lied to you, he  _ used _ you. He just chucked you out and treated you like a nobody; if you are genuinely okay with that, I will pull down my pants right now and make cash with my diamond-pubes.” 

Vulgar as she was, Chloe wasn’t wrong. “You’re right,” Warren muttered.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“You’re right,” he repeated, much louder this time. “I’m not—” Warren ran his hands through his hair in a furious motion. “I’m not fucking okay! It fucking hurts because I actually care about him. I care about him  _ so _ much and I’m not even worth the time of day to him!”

Warren began to pace away, and Chloe jumped from her comfortable position at the moldy old couch to follow him. There was a pain lodged at the base of his throat that threatened to choke his words. “And it’s like—I’m used to it, you know? Being left behind and people not giving a flying fuck about me. Treating me like I’m invisible, like I’m a—a fucking cockroach. But this? This is different. This is fucked up.”

Instead of feeling self pity, or insecure, or abandoned, he felt anger, and he didn’t know how to respond to it, because Warren had never been uncontrollably angry before. Upset, yes. Mad, of course. Disappointed, one too many times. But angry to a point where it was bordering on furious? Feeling that sensation of fire that burns in the pit of your stomach and eats you away until everything is just red? Never.

“Why’d you even give a shit about him? I find it seriously hard to believe that there’s anything remotely good about that dick. Besides his money.” 

“I don’t know, he’s,” great, wonderful, awful, sadistic—Nathan was many, many things, and though Warren had been so enthusiastic about it a week ago, his newfound fury made it hard to recall what exactly had attracted him in the first place, “ _ different. _ I honestly don’t even know anymore. He was  _ cool _ , you know? I don’t know, I didn’t think he’d turn on me like that.”

“ _ I didn’t think the world’s biggest ass would be an ass to ME!”  _ Chloe said in a mocking falsetto. “Open your eyes. You deluded yourself into thinking he was actually a nice, misunderstood guy deep inside and all you had to do was get through his fake tough guy act. But it’s not fake. It’s who he is. Nathan Prescott is a lying, manipulative prick who only cares about himself.”

She was right, she was right, she was right, and it hurt. It hurt so bad. It was so obvious, and Warren hated himself for not seeing it. He’d been anxious about telling Stella who his crush was because he didn’t want to hear what she had to say about Nathan. He’d kept it from everyone he knew because he knew they’d all say the same thing: Nathan was Blackwell’s most hated student for a reason. 

“Okay, fine, you’re right! He’s an ass and I’m an idiot for trusting him.” 

“Yes, you are. But I think we both know who’s the bigger idiot.” 

“Nathan,” they both answered in unison. 

“Fuck him, honestly,” Warren huffed. 

Maybe it was because they’d become good enough friends to notice each other’s drop in moods, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that anger seemed to be a prime aspect of Chloe’s personality and because of it she could read people's anger like a book, but the way she looked at him, like she knew what he was thinking —what he was feeling—triggered something in him, and breaking things suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. 

With a triumphant strut, Chloe grabbed the rusted pipe they had discarded earlier and swung it as hard as she could, denting an old piece of equipment, before tossing it to Warren. The metal was painfully cold, and Warren turned it over in his hands before gripping it hard and banging it against the decrepit machine. 

_ THWACK!  _

“Fuck him!” Warren bellowed out, something Chloe took great cheer in and followed suit. 

_ CLANG!  _

Warren didn’t know if the violence was making him feel better or worse. But he was feeling  _ something _ , something other than pain and hurt and all the feelings he tried burying the past few days. 

_ THUNK!  _

Anger, outrage, resentment—a cocktail of alien emotions all bubbling up into the surface. Memories surfaced with them; all the good ones. The ones that he would play in his mind over and over again. All they served for now was to incur more wrath, more rage. 

“Fuck Nathan!” Warren cried out, shattering a window. 

“Fuck him and his whole family!” Chloe whooped and kicked in a discarded TV set. 

Glass cracked and shattered to the floor, boxes were kicked and stomped on, and fragments of discarded furniture tore apart like shrapnel. Warren projected his anger out in a way that felt refreshing, new. And god, it was the best feeling he had all week, and he didn’t stop until everything that was bottled up had been released. Nothing was saved from their rage, and when Warren smashed the pole against the ground one last time, they left the warehouse looking even more battered than it originally did. 

ooo

Despite everything, Warren ended up going to the party. 

The rampage had left him emotionally and physically drained. Once Chloe dropped him off, he had intended to go directly to his dorm unnoticed, but was unlucky enough to run into Brooke on the way, in a full body Jaeger pilot suit like Stella had predicted. Attempts were made to try and excuse himself, but were parried by an incessant line of questioning that forced Warren to just rewind the whole thing and agree to go with her to the party. 

It was… pretty cool, actually. The decor was stunning, the costumes were awesome, the music wasn’t half bad. Warren looked around the party, taking in faces with fake-blood smeared on them, weird masks, and some questionable attires. 

Over by the tables, the drinks and food were set up. At the end of the pool, beyond the VIP section, was the DJ and the stage for the contest announcement. The bass from the music sent vibrations to his body that caused his hair to stand on end. The pool was the main attraction: sublimation from the dry ice gave it the eerie fog effect Warren had hoped for. 

Though he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate the science behind it, as it reminded him of the fact that he was the one that gave the idea to Nathan. 

He was unhappy, that wasn’t a mystery. It was obvious enough that Brooke noticed it and questioned him about it, not knowing she had asked the same questions earlier, before he rewound them. Answering with half-truths was enough to dissuade her— _ “I got a B in the last chemistry test.” “No, I got all the questions right, but it still dropped a letter.” “I missed it because I was looking for Max.”— _ and he knew that talking about Max was enough to have Brooke quickly change the subject to something more comfortable. 

Which reminded him of a small fact: she had a crush on him.

Now that he knew about it, he saw how obvious it was and kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. The way Brooke looked at him, talked to him enthusiastically about any subject she could get her mind upon,  _ smiled  _ at him (Which, if you knew Brooke, you’d know she never smiled. Ever.), it was clear as day. 

He realized a lot of things then, puzzle pieces he didn’t even know connected. When she told him about the Drive-In, she was actually asking him out. And what did he do?  _ “That’s a great idea! Thanks Brooke, I’ll ask Max if she wants to go.”  _ All those study dates at the library, the occasional movie night, how her shoulders would sag whenever he talked about Max, when he told her he went to the Drive-In with someone else and she left the room like she couldn’t take hearing another word about it. 

Which brought him to a horrifying thought: was his crush on Nathan obvious? 

It… made sense, in a way. Why Nathan shoved him away after the Drive-In. Warren thought about the intimate moments they had together, but what if it was all one-sided? What if Nathan had seen those moments differently, and had been creeped out or worse? It would explain why Nathan didn’t want anything to do with Warren, and frankly, Warren couldn’t blame him. 

It was a troubling thought, but one thing still remained; he had been hurting Brooke this whole time. Had she been feeling these past few months what Warren was feeling? The emptiness, the heartache, the swell of hope that gets swept away in a moments notice? Had Warren been leading her on? 

Warren didn’t know a lot of things when it came to this stuff, only that he didn’t want it to continue. That he wanted to stop inflicting damage on his closest friends. 

He wouldn’t do to her what Nathan did to him. 

“Brooke,” Warren spoke, interrupting her theory on the lunar parallax from a few weeks ago.

She seemed surprised by the interruption and blinked. “Yes, Warren?”

“Brooke, I,” he swallowed, searching for the right words that seemed to not exist, “I know you like me. Like, like-like me.” 

Even under the blacklights he saw her flush. “I, uh, well, it’s uh. Well, Warren, you see, um, well—”

Warren never thought he’d see Brooke at a loss for words, and his heart gave a pang at how she stammered through the sentence, not being able to string more than two words together. “The truth is, Brooke,” he cut in once again, sparing her from further embarrassment, “I’m really flattered, but I don’t feel the same way.”

Brooke clamped her mouth shut. There was a silence that stretched for eons. Warren played with his cuticles, rattling his brain desperately, trying to find something to say. She broke the silence, however, taking a shaky breath. “What brought this on?” She asked.

Rejecting her had come out of the blue, Warren realized, and he didn’t know how to explain it without upsetting her. In the end, he convinced himself it was better to get through this as fast as he could, like ripping off a band-aid. “After you left last Stella’s room, she told me it was because I went to the Drive-In with someone else. I didn’t know you wanted me to go with you.”

“Really, Warren, really?” 

Warren rubbed the back of his neck. “You have every right to be mad. I know you think I’m the smartest guy around, but I’m not. I’m actually really stupid.”

“You are.”

“I’m not good with this stuff, at all. I thought you only saw me as a friend, so I didn’t think anything of it. But now that I know that you don’t, I can’t—I can’t let this go on. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She scoffed. “It’s a bit late for that.” 

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I want us to be friends but I can’t be more than that. I’m sorry.” 

Brooke was blinking rapidly and it didn’t hit Warren that she was crying until she wiped a tear with her sleeve. “Who did you take to the Drive-In?”

Warren lowered his head. “I can’t tell you who it is. Sorry.”

She shook her head and sniffled. “Some friend you are.” 

“If it helps, it didn’t work out,” Warren didn’t know why he blurted that out because of course it wouldn’t help. Nothing would help ease the pain she was going through, except time. 

“Whatever,” she answered. “Look, I’m going to leave. I hope you have an enjoyable time here. It’ll make one of us.”

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated for the hundredth time.

“See you in class.” 

And with that she left. 

 

ooo

Warren couldn’t keep his spirits up after that, and spent the rest of the evening wandering aimlessly through throngs of happy dancers, eyes trained on the cup in his hand, just in case he accidentally got a glance of the familiar blond hair and hypnotizing eyes that he was so desperate for. 

It was a strange feeling, to be both angry at Nathan and also hungry for him. Yearning for an explanation, an apology, or just an opportunity to vent. Being with Chloe helped him sort out his feelings and see them for what they were, but the foreign outlet did little to assuage the turmoil in his heart. It was hard to accept that he would probably never get the closure he needed. 

At the moment he found himself loitering by the snack table, rolling a gummy eyeball between his fingers and dropping it into his fruit punch. The candy bobbed on the surface and Warren couldn’t help but notice that it looked like it was swimming in blood. 

A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder, startling him half to death. “Warren, man, good to see you!” 

Warren’s eyes snapped up to meet the stranger’s only to realize he had no eyes. Or rather, his mask didn’t. He was covered head to toe in a white morph suit underneath a black and white baseball uniform, making it impossible to tell who it was. The voice had been familiar enough, though, and Warren recognized it immediately. 

“Hey Luke, sweet costume. Didn’t know you played OFF.”

Luke pumped his fist. “Yes! You’re the first person to get the reference. You got a great costume too—Back to the Future, right?” 

“You know it.” 

“I’ve seen  _ way _ too many vampires and sexy cat costumes. It’s like people don’t try anymore, you know? I saw someone in a Jaeger suit earlier,  _ that _ was fucking awesome.” 

“That was Brooke,” Warren said, but couldn’t keep the despondent tone out of his voice.

“Seriously?” Luke said, then craned his head to see if he could spot her. Warren had been about to tell him she had left the party when Luke spoke again. “You okay? Are those guys still messing with you?” 

“I don’t think Logan and Zach have left the VIP section, so no,” Warren answered. 

“So what’s with the long face? Not having fun?” 

Warren was starting to get sick of people asking him what was wrong. Everything. Everything was wrong. “No, just, you know, stuff,” he shrugged, hoping his voice didn’t betray how frustrated he was. 

Luke gave a sympathetic nod and Warren wished he could see his expression. “Well, I can’t help with  _ stuff _ but I know someone who can,” before Warren could ask who he was talking about, Luke pulled out a tub of sunscreen. 

“Sunscreen. Uh, you know it’s nighttime, right? And also, the end of October.”

“It’s a hidden flask,” Luke said, shaking it. “Jack Daniels. Madsen is checking all bags and pockets when coming in. I’m probably the only person here with alcohol. Here, gimme your drink.” 

Luke poured about three shots of alcohol into his drink before Warren could answer. 

“Um, thanks?” Warren took an experimental sip of his drink, and grimaced in surprise. He felt a sharp fuzzy feeling in his head from the first sip. “Wow, that’s strong.” 

“No kidding,” said Luke, clapping him in the shoulder once more, “you look like you need it. It helps to drink it in one go.”

Warren doubted that, he didn’t know if he wanted to get drunk or not. His first experience had been fun but he really did some embarrassing things under the influence that he didn’t wish to repeat. 

But, you know, what the hell. Luke was with him and he could stand to lower his inhibitions just for one night. He was sure he’d be fine and maybe he could start having fun. Warren tilted his head back and chugged as much as he could off the stuff, which turned out to be all of it. The fuzzy feeling returned with a vengeance and he shook his head until it subsided. Luke cheered him on. 

“Yeah, dude! That’s what I’m talking about,” Luke said. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Warren answered.

“For now,” Luke winked, or at least Warren thought he winked, but he couldn’t be sure. “Anyway, I gotta go, but we can hang real soon. Stay gold, Warren.” 

Aaaaand Luke left. And Warren was alone. With alcohol in his system. Yeah, that was fine. Warren wasn’t  _ that _ big of a lightweight. He’d be okay. 

 

ooo

Warren was  _ not _ okay. 

It took him about five minutes for the alcohol to digest for him to get that great tipsy feeling he was aiming for, and five more minutes for him to pass that threshold and enter a less graceful level of intoxication. 

Walking became difficult, and he stumbled every few steps or so. At least he hadn’t done anything embarrassing yet, with the exception of bumping into a few people and causing someone to spill their drink on her costume and getting yelled at. Other than that, he was cool. 

The contest was starting and he saw Victoria step onto the stage with a really awesome costume that probably cost more than his old car. Dana was speaking into the mic about the finalists of the contest and the prizes. Warren wondered what Nathan’s costume was. If it was good enough to have gotten a shot at the contest or if he didn’t care about Halloween. 

Fuck Nathan, though. And Victoria too. And fuck Warren for even thinking about Nathan all the goddamn time. Warren rubbed at his forehead. Luke had been wrong, being drunk hadn’t helped at all. He was still salty about the whole situation.

Oh look, Victoria won. What a surprise. Warren watched her act like she was taken aback before walking up to the mic to accept her prize and give a speech. Hearing her mention Max made his blood boil, and even more so when she mentioned her full name. Max’s voice rang in his head:  _ “Max, never Maxine.”  _ It just made him angrier. These people didn’t know what it was like to lose two best friends in the span of a month. They had no idea how much it hurt. 

Okay, he needed to calm himself down. Being angry and drunk was a dangerous combo. He heard Stella’s voice ring out over the crowd:  _ “You suck, Victoria!” _ and Warren whipped his head over the direction, instantly regretting it when a wave of dizziness hit. 

Stella, he had to find Stella. He walked (stumbled), over where he heard her voice call out, but couldn’t get past the wall of people. Not with the level of uncoordination he currently had. He ended up bumping against a very tall, very muscular Mr. Jefferson. 

“Oh shit, sorry M’Jefferson,” Warren slurred. 

“Watch where you’re going, Gayram,” Mr. Jefferson replied and Warren didn’t have the brain capacity to process the nickname right away. 

Logan’s jeer, however, helped bring him up to speed. “What are you even wearing? Did you jump ship? What’s with the life preserver?” Logan grabbed at the collar of Warren’s puffer vest.

Mr. Jefferson— _ Zachary _ , Warren realized now—answered before Warren could. “It’s Back to the Future, dude.” 

_ “I know that,” _ Logan told Zachary from the corner of his mouth,  _ “it’s a reference; play along.”  _

_ “Oh, right,” _ Zachary nodded in understanding. 

Logan cleared his throat. “Do you think it floats?” 

“Only one way to find out,” answered Zach. 

And,  _ shit, _ Warren’s reflexes had never been good to begin with, so he could have never hoped to get away from them in time. They grabbed his limbs and Warren attempted to call on his rewind, but intoxication had a funny effect on it. Similar to what happened with Kate; a broken record that played itself back and forth. 

It was disorienting when he was dropped into the pool. Aside from the drunkenness and the rewinds, there was a total absence of sound. Having closed his eyes it was like being suspended in nothingness, in the eternal lull of space. It was almost relaxing. 

And like space, he couldn’t breathe. 

Warren kicked his legs and was fortunate enough to have gone in the right direction. His head broke through the surface and a sensible voice reminded him of the CO 2  floating above the surface of the pool. His lungs already felt like they were about to burst and it was with great difficulty that Warren managed to drag himself out of the water. 

Above him, Logan and Zachary heckled as he coughed and rolled over onto his back. A part of him, a huge one, wanted to yell at them.  _ “You could have killed me!”  _ But a bigger part of him, all of him actually, was too busy taking big gulps of oxygen.

They left him, just like everybody did that night. Just like Nathan did. Warren’s throat closed up, making breathing difficult. If anything, he was glad he didn’t catch up to Stella. He wouldn’t want her to see him like this. All wet, drunk, and upset. 

Well. There was nothing left to do. He picked himself up because god forbid anyone would actually care about him enough to help, and wrung out his shirt, adding a nice puddle of chlorinated water near the edge of the pool. 

Bathroom. He needed to go to the bathroom. See? He could be responsible while drunk. Not like Nathan, who needed to be picked up from an abandoned barn. All those complicated feelings that cropped up whenever he thought of Nathan engulfed him like fire, like they always did, so he tried his best to stomp them out. Bathroom.

The gym bathroom was crowded, full to the brim with people who liked loitering near clogged toilets. The main bathroom should be open, if Warren could will his legs to get him there. 

 

ooo

It was a bit of an ordeal, though not as bad as he’d expected. The hallways were empty, and he’d recovered some of his motor skills along the way. School looked different at night. Eerie. Fluorescent lights flickered in a way Warren never noticed during the daytime. His shoes echoed with every step: a resounding  _ slap! _ that only reminded him of how physically uncomfortable being soaked made him. 

Trying not to focus on that, he trudged on until he reached the boy’s bathroom. He attempted to pull the door open, only to find it locked. Which was… odd. It shouldn’t be locked. That was when he heard an even stranger noise from within: something wet and squishy. 

A distinct moan caused him to recoil from the door, and a blush creeped from his neck to the tip of his ears. 

They couldn’t wait to reach the dorms?! That was… impressive. In a sense. God, Warren was not good with words today. 

He was a bit ashamed to admit he hung around longer than he had to before stepping away. Water still dripped from his clothes, he was cold, and getting colder. Not wanting to make a brisk walk back to the dorms in the freezing fall weather, he headed towards his final option. 

Aside from the one in the dorms, he had never been to the girls’ bathroom and was underwhelmed to note that it was just as bleak as the boys’. Warren wrung out his shirt over the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. His eye caught a hand dryer and he hummed. That was new. The boys’ didn’t have a hand dryer. Not knowing what else to do he stood underneath it and dried (more like  _ warmed _ ) his shirt. 

Warren was the last person who would feel sorry for himself and yet he’d been doing that a lot recently. It made no sense to him why anyone would make fun of someone else. Logan and Zachary in particular. They always picked on Warren and pushed him around. He convinced himself that they were harmless, but couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread whenever they locked onto him. It made him wish they bullied someone else. 

No, that wasn’t true. Warren could take the bullying. Their remarks seldom affected his self-esteem and the physical abuse never bordered on the truly dangerous. If he could take a punching or two to prevent someone more fragile from getting onto a roof, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

Which reminded him that Kate wasn’t the only one who had a hard time. Max often complained about being targeted for Victoria’s petty insults, though she always assured him that she didn’t really care. And Stella, who admitted to Warren that Victoria had tormented her ever since she won the contest. It wasn’t the same as Logan’s and Zachary’s taunts, who more often than not landed off the mark on Warren’s insecurities. He supposed it was worse. Stella never did tell him what Victoria had said about her. 

Speaking of, Stella did mention that Victoria wrote shit about her on the bathroom stalls.

Masochistic curiosity got the better of him and he entered one of the stalls. They were covered in graffiti, but none about Stella. It was a momentary relief though, as he turned around to leave he remembered to check behind the door. Closing it, he found what he had been looking for. 

**STELLA IS A WHORE**

**_WORSE THAN KATE_ **

**SHE SUKKED MARKS COCK FOR THE WIN**

**_WHAT? :O NO WAY_ **

**TALENTLESS CUNT**

**CALL** **(555) 278-3490** **IF YOU WANT A GOOD TIME -STELLA**

It made Warren sick to his stomach. Stella had been going through this all by herself? What the fuck did Victoria gain from this? She already lost the contest, it wasn’t like tormenting Stella was going to change anything. Anger boiled in his veins. It was disgusting. 

And the anger brought him back to Nathan, like it always did. The boys’ bathroom was filled with messages similar to these. Stalker. Gayram. He wondered if Nathan had written any of them. Even if he hadn’t, he had to have seen them. They were unavoidable. In the stalls, on his locker, over the walls, paper trails over the floor where people had thrown obscenities at him. Nathan  _ knew _ what he had done. 

Why, why,  _ why _ were his feelings so complicated then? It hurt to think about Nathan just like it hurt to think about Max. Nathan was on his mind constantly, so much that batting the thoughts away felt like a chore. Questions that buzzed in his head like wasps, never sated by his stupid unsolved hypotheses. Not knowing exactly  _ why _ Nathan had pushed him away was like being suspended in a cliffhanger on a show that got cancelled. Warren needed an answer, just an answer, so he could permanently let him go. 

And at that moment, the universe listened. 

The bathroom door  _ slammed _ open and Warren jumped in his stall. He could hear footsteps rapidly making their way to the sink, loud echoes reverberating over the walls. Warren had been about to come out, if only to make a speedy exit, when a very familiar voice caused him to freeze in place.

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” it hissed, something akin to frustration in its voice. 

Nathan. It was Nathan. Warren didn’t know if it was luck, misfortune, or a weird combination of both, but Nathan was here. In the flesh. 

Warren peeked through the slit between the door. Nathan was hunched over the sink, head hung low so Warren couldn’t see his expression. His hands were shaking madly. 

Seeing him wasn’t the same as thinking about him. It brought a whole new array of emotions that Warren had no idea what to do with. A deep yearning to talk to him, to scream, to comfort. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. A few seconds ago it all seemed so clear, but  _ seeing _ Nathan made everything muddled again. 

“You’re fine, get a hold of yourself. Just—just stay away from everyone tonight and you’ll be fine. Nothing will happen. Everything will be okay. Everything will be okay.”

Warren had a choice. He could stay inside the stall. Wait for Nathan to leave. He wouldn’t get his closure but he also wouldn’t do something he might regret. Time would force him to let Nathan go. 

Or he could confront him, settle things once and for all. For better or for worse. Both choices had their pros and cons and Warren didn’t know how to make the decision.

His mouth made the choice for him. “Nathan?” The name tumbled out before Warren could even process it.

He opened the door and Nathan snapped his head up. It was dirty, forcing Nathan to acknowledge him, to  _ see _ him the way he had pretended not to the past week and a half. They were alone, Nathan couldn’t dodge him by hiding in a crowd, or say that he was busy. He could turn and run, that was an option. But the important thing was that Nathan had acknowledged him and for the first time Warren didn’t feel so invisible. 

“Nathan, we need to talk.” 

Nathan snarled and looked between the reflection of Warren in the mirror and the door. Weighing his chances to get away, probably. Warren wouldn’t stop him. Didn’t think he could, with his rewind out of commission and his incoordination the way it was. 

To his surprise (and… glee?), Nathan didn’t run. His brow furrowed and he returned his gaze to the basin. “What do you want?” 

“What do you think?” Warren snapped back at him. Because he didn’t have the patience for this. For games. Nathan knew exactly what he was talking about and it was high time they discussed it. “Why’d you do it?” 

Nathan scoffed and turned around, but didn’t look at Warren. “You’re gonna have to get a little more specific than that, Graham.” 

“Okay.” This was it, Warren was going to lay out all their dirty secrets and Nathan was going to have to answer for them. “You vandalized my room. You broke my stuff.” 

“I thought I made the reason clear on your door.” 

“That wasn’t enough, though, wasn’t it?” Warren clenched his fists. “You had to get me ostracized too.” 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You’ve made my life a living hell since you wrote that shit on my wall. I can’t go a fucking day without someone calling me a stalker.” 

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“You had  _ everything _ to do with it!” Warren’s voice boomed in the small space and Nathan flinched. But he couldn’t bring to himself to feel bad about it. Oh no, he was just getting started. 

Nathan recovered quickly from that, gathering himself to full height. “If you’d only listened to me and left me the fuck alone I wouldn’t have had to resort to that shit.”

“You  _ lied _ to me Nathan. I have the right to know why the fuck my best friend bailed on me for no goddamn reason.” 

Nathan released an ugly laugh.  _ “Best friend? _ Listen to yourself, Graham, you’re living in a fantasy world.” 

“I’m not. You know I’m not.” 

Nathan stepped closer to Warren. “I  _ used _ you. I don’t give a shit about you. I never did. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull, you fucking shitstain?”

Nathan shoved him and Warren wasn’t ready for it, stumbling back a few paces more than necessary. Every single word that came out of Nathan’s mouth hurt like a knife through the heart. More than his turmoil with his friends, more than the bullying. This was a new kind of pain, carefully tailored to inflict as much damage as possible. 

An odd combination of dismay and anger bubbled through Warren’s skin. He wanted to hit Nathan so that he could feel a fraction of the pain Warren was enduring. Nathan rounded on him like a predator, but Warren stood his ground. 

“You’re wrong. I think you do give a shit about me. You’ve gone out of your way to both avoid me  _ and _ to torment me. Even now, you haven’t walked out on me. I think you care, and I think you’re pushing me away because something’s going on with you and you’re taking it out on me.” 

“Do  _ not _ analyze me, Graham!” Nathan snapped, shoving Warren again.

“Analyzing is all I  _ can _ do!” Warren barked, and shoved him back. “How the fuck do you expect me to figure out what’s going on when you refuse to talk to me? Do you like hanging me by a thread? Having me at your mercy?”

Nathan grinded his teeth. “You know what? I don’t have to take  _ any _ of your bullshit!” He turned on his heel and began heading out. 

Warren wasn’t done with him, though. He wasn’t going to let another person walk out on him tonight. “Nathan!” He reached for Nathan’s wrist to try and stop him, and in a flash, Nathan whipped back around and pushed his arm over Warren’s chest, shoving him until Warren’s back was pinned firmly against the wall. 

They were close, closer than they’d ever been. Close enough that Warren could smell his breath, see tiny, near-microscopic freckles that gathered on the bridge in Nathan’s nose. Saw his eyes, a deep pool of blue with tinges of gray around the edges, dilated to the point where they were mostly black. Felt Nathan’s lungs expand and compress in his chest. They were still for a moment that felt like an eternity, the only sounds between them their ragged breathing.

Warren watched Nathan’s eyes flick the briefest of moments to his lips. Then—before Warren could figure out who initiated it—their lips met. 

The kiss was hard and demanding. Nathan’s mouth burned over his, as their lips melded together. His arm was still secure over Warren’s chest, though the pressure had lessened. Nathan tasted like alcohol and Warren self-consciously wondered if his tasted like chlorine. It was fast and sloppy, like they couldn’t get enough of the other—their mouths hungry for more, more,  _ more. _

Warren’s head felt like it was in the clouds, his senses on fire. Warren moved his hands to Nathan’s back, clawing at the leather jacket. Nathan snaked his own underneath Warren’s shirt, settling them over his hips, pulling him closer. Warren didn’t know what he was doing, his brain too intoxicated to catch up to his actions. 

Nathan pulled on Warren’s lower lip with his teeth and Warren groaned into his mouth, a needy sound he didn’t know he could make. He heard Nathan’s breath catch at it, and Warren sneaked one of his eyes open to see. Nathan’s eyes had been open, black pupils swallowing his iris whole. Nathan grinded his hips forward and Warren gasped, shutting his eyes once more. 

Nathan was more experienced than he was, and Warren tried his best to mimic the motions his mouth was making. When it got too hard to breathe they separated, the both of them gasping for air and gazing intently at the other. Nathan’s bruised lips, his flushed cheeks, the permanent furrow in his brow. 

Warren meant to say something but Nathan went in again, this time going for his neck. He felt a nip at the base of his throat and Warren gasped. “Natha—” He meant to say, but Nathan dug his nails into Warren’s skin as a silent  _ “Shut up.” _

Warren moved his hands lower to cup Nathan’s ass and pulled his hips towards him again, feeling Nathan’s throat vibrate with a groan. The sound traveled straight to Warren’s navel, like butterflies in his stomach but ten thousand times worse. It was as if his emotions, his mind, had been temporarily shut off and Warren could only  _ feel. _ The coldness of the wall pressing against his back, the warmth of Nathan’s hands over his hips. 

Nathan nipped him in the throat and Warren hissed in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He wanted to kiss Nathan again, so he tugged at Nathan’s hair—hard enough to give him the message to pull his head back, but not hard enough to hurt. Nathan growled and fixed Warren with an intense glare. He probably didn’t like that, but not enough to stop him from diving into Warren’s mouth once more, their teeth clashing painfully.

It came to an end when the door opened. 

Nathan’s lips pulled away from Warren abruptly, and Warren felt cold. The voices that entered the previously quiet bathroom popped the cloud Warren was floating on and brought him down from his high. He looked at Nathan, who seemed to realize what he’d done, his eyes wide with horror. Nathan looked over his shoulder and saw that Dana and Trevor had walked in, but were too preoccupied with each other to notice them yet. Warren opened his mouth to speak but Nathan had turned heel and ran away, shoving the couple aside. 

“What the hell?” Dana said, rubbing the spot in the arm where Nathan had pushed her.

“That was rude as fuck,” Trevor agreed. “Whatever, at least we have the bathroom to ourselves now.” They noticed Warren then.

Anxiety bloomed in his stomach.  _ The cat’s out of the bag,  _ he thought. 

“Oh my God, Warren, what happened to you?” Was Dana’s first response. What? They approached him, Dana’s eyes inspecting him with concern like he was a wounded animal. 

“Um,” Warren said, his mind still blank.

“Dude, was it Nathan? Did he hurt you?” 

Hurt him? They brought him over to the sink where Warren saw his reflection. Without context it really did look like he’d been in a fight. Swollen lips, disheveled hair, clothes out of place, dripping wet, and a red bruise at the base of his throat. 

Dana and Trevor were talking to him, but the words never reached his ears. It took seeing his reflection to realize what happened was  _ real. _ His mind was slowly catching up to the events that transpired in the bathroom. The kiss— _ the kiss. _ Nathan had kissed him. Or he had kissed Nathan, but Nathan kissed him  _ back. _

Warren didn’t know what it meant, what any of it meant, the situation being more complicated than any math problem he had ever tackled. It raised more questions than answers. Warren only knew one thing: he needed to talk to Nathan  _ now _ , or he might never get the chance to.

“Which way did Nathan go?” Warren asked. 

“What? Warren, now is not the time—” Dana tried.

_ “Which way?” _

“Outside,” Trevor answered. “Towards the main entrance.” 

Warren ran from the bathroom, leaving a protesting Dana and concerned Trevor inside. 

 

ooo

He looked everywhere. 

Outside, where Trevor had pointed him towards. Warren froze in the cold that pierced his skin and left him shivering. He went back to the party, pushed through throngs of people hoping to catch a sight of blond hair, a leather jacket. He asked people, inebriated babble escaping his lips. No one had seen him. Warren checked the dorms last, rapping on his door until he feared his knuckles would bleed. 

No answer. 

It was no use. Warren leaned his head back on Nathan’s door. 

Nathan was gone. Sure, Warren might see him tomorrow in the halls, but the kiss might as well had never happened. If he confronted Nathan then it would be too easy for him to avoid Warren or deny it altogether. Warren was done chasing after Nathan anyways. Despite what happened in the bathroom, Nathan ran. There was no mistaking Nathan’s feelings.

Warren’s feelings, however. There was no way he could untangle the knot of emotions that settled in his core. Not by himself. The most he could do was… shove it away. Forget about Nathan, about the kiss. Like it never happened.

Warren pushed himself away from Nathan’s door. It was way past midnight and he had class in the morning. His mind was too weary to really worry about it; all he wanted to do was go to bed and deal with the stress and heartache in the morning. 

The door to his dorm creaked slightly as it opened, the light of the hallway illuminating the walls enough so Warren could see the figure huddled next to his bed.

Warren had to blink, rub his eyes, to test if what he was seeing was real. 

Once he accepted that it was true, he still couldn’t believe it. Nathan Prescott sat on his floor, knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his arms. He looked so small. 

Warren wanted to say something, anything, but swallowed his words. Instead, he closed the door and sat next to Nathan. Close, but not close enough to touch. “Nathan?” He whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loudly he would spook him away. 

Nathan hummed and turned his head towards him, eyes blinking sleepily. “Warren,” he said, and in an instant Warren’s heart melted. He hadn’t heard his name come out of Nathan’s lips from so long that when it did, it rang like a forgotten melody.

“Yeah?” Warren said.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Warren sighed, all the anger and pain evaporating with that one exhale. “Me either,” Warren replied, watching Nathan and all of the minute expressions that revealed themselves on his features. “But we’ll figure it out together.” 

Nathan looked back at him with half-lidded eyes, head still resting on his arms, knees tucked into his body. A soft noncommittal sound vibrated from his throat. “I wanted to hurt you. I was going to.” 

Warren remembered the flash of fury in Nathan’s eyes, the painful pressure on his chest as Nathan pinned him to the wall. The uncertain look at the last second. “But you didn’t.” 

“I couldn’t.”

A warm yet sad feeling rose in Warren’s chest. Nathan looked so tired, not just physically, but as if he had gone through just as much mental turmoil and heartache as Warren had. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay.”

That one word was enough. Nathan’s eyes drifted close, and as his breath evened out Warren had no doubt he had fallen asleep. Warren never left his side, choosing to sleep on the floor instead of climbing into the bed behind him, hoping, praying, that Nathan would still be there in the morning.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it isssssss!! be sure to like comment and subscribe if u wanna see more content like this one folks


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